Far Too Many Time Travelers
by Lord Jeram
Summary: Someone has a daring plan to go back in time and fix everything. No wait, not him, I meant the other... how many people have time traveled anyway? Poor Harry seems to be the only normal one left.
1. Chapter 1: A Bit Odd, Really

He sat in the circle, exhausted and horrified by the terrible acts he had been forced to perform to get to this point. But it would all be worthwhile if the time gate worked. Harry needed his help and his friendship; above all, Harry needed to survive. The future was a black and awful place, where Voldemort had won and nearly all his friends were dead - including Harry and his closest friends - and his dearest love. He would have never managed the task alone, but Dumbledore had planned for such a horrendous contingency, and imbued his portrait with the knowledge to travel back in time - just once. But once would be enough. Harry would be saved. And so would the world.

With one final burst of will, he activated the gate and fell into the space between the possibilities. The cord of time pulled and yanked him back, and he found himself on a day he remembered quite well indeed.

The plan had worked.

* * *

She sat atop the tower, cursing herself for the lives she had destroyed to accomplish the impossible. Everyone said it couldn't be done; that changing the past was impossible. Well, she wasn't about to accept common wisdom any longer. Harry was dead, killed years ago by Voldemort. And everyone else she had ever known or cared for was gone. Even her dear beloved, the man she never expected to love. Yes, everyone and everything told her this was impossible - and not only that, _wrong_.

Well, bugger that. The culmination of a three month intricate ritual was finally coming to a close as the total lunar eclipse was just beginning. And the final words of power left her mouth, never to return, echoing to the moon and beyond. Or more accurately, to the emptiness the moon left behind, a brief space when light fled and darkness crept in. The darkness spread over her, covering the sky, erasing the world from possibility. What she was doing was mass homicide on a planetary scale, and likely far worse - but she couldn't be bothered to care.

And when she opened her eyes, to see a sight so familiar and wondrous she nearly fainted with relief - she knew.

The plan had worked.

* * *

He waited in the Ministry's most secret room, albeit one where many he had personally known had visited over the years. The Veil of Death fluttered before him, captivating the eye even as it repulsed him. He hated himself, hated everyone he knew. Hated what he had helped bring to fruition. Serving the Dark Lord had never been a good thing - but he had been scared for so long. But now, his parents were dead and his former friends were as good as deceased. And even Harry Bloody Potter was dead - although that had been many years ago. Harry was dead, as were all his annoying friends. And yet, although Harry had been a rival, he was better than the alternative. Far better.

Stealing the old books from the Dark Lord had been a dangerous task - but the rapidly balding man had very little left to lose. It had taken years of planning and arduous labor - and even now he had no idea if it would work. But to hell with it, Harry may have been an arrogant little git, but he should never have died. The Veil was ready for him, the Time-Turners altered and magnified. If he was wrong, he would tear himself and the island apart. If he was right, well, the island still might be ripped asunder. But that he could live with.

With a final goodbye to his dead parents, he activated the artifacts and stepped within the Veil. It would seem like he was falling for all eternity, although in reality it was precisely the amount of time he was erasing. When he landed into his younger self, the surprise that he was no longer falling caused him to stumble and smack his face on a pillar. Well, no matter. He recognized where he was easily enough.

The plan had worked.

* * *

**Far Too Many Time Travelers**  
**Chapter 1: A Bit Odd, Really**

* * *

Harry Potter settled in to the seat in the empty compartment. The Hogwarts Express was finally preparing to leave, and Harry couldn't have been more excited. The concept of learning magic was just about the greatest thing he had ever come across in his life.

The door of the compartment banged open, and a tall, red-headed boy stuck his head in. When he saw Harry, the boy burst into a very happy smile.

Harry felt a bit anxious, wondering if the redhead was about to react to his 'fame'.

"Ah, there you are!" The boy chuckled. "I had forgotten where you were sitting. Wow, it's so bloody fantastic to see you! You look so young!"

Harry frowned, thinking this a comment on his height. "You look young too," he retorted. "Didn't I just see your Mum wiping dirt off your nose?"

The boy laughed, not looking as if he took any offense at all. "Blimey, that's right. I forgot all about that."

"But it just happened," said Harry, slightly confused.

The boy blinked then gasped. "Oh, bloody hell, I almost forgot." He raced and stuck out his hand. "I'm Ron Weasley. Pleased to meet you."

"Um, I'm Harry Potter," Harry accepted the hand, which Ron pumped up and down very energetically.

"Brilliant to meet you," Ron grinned. "Brilliant." He looked around the empty compartment with a huge smile and sighed. "Ah, this is brilliant. Say, you mind if I sit here?"

Harry shook his head, completely disconcerted by the odd behavior. On the other hand, even if this Ron was a bit odd, he was very pleasant. So that was something.

"So, um," Harry started to say, getting back his wits a bit. "Excited for Hogwarts?"

At this, Ron began to laugh in a very infectious manner - Harry had difficulty not joining in, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

"Ah, that's great, Harry, really it is," Ron wiped his eyes. "Oh, I'm excited for Hogwarts all right. Learning magic and all that. Aren't you?"

Harry snickered a bit. "Yeah, but I get the feeling nobody's quite as excited as you."

Ron chuckled. "Yeah, good one, mate. You study the books at all? I never asked the first... well I'm curious anyway."

"Um, yeah, I've read the books, well a lot of them," Harry admitted. "Although I'm really worried I'll be... well, not prepared enough. I might be last in the class."

"No worries, Harry," Ron said. "If anyone's last in the class, it'll be me. I haven't even opened a book yet!" He laughed again, and Harry joined in finally.

"Are you from a magical family?" Harry asked, wondering if that was a factor for Ron's nonchalance.

"I sure am!" Ron beamed. "Bloody brilliant family, they are. Dad works in the Ministry with Muggle stuff, Mum's at home - though with all the kids, can't blame her for that. My older brother Bill works for Gringotts hunting treasure, and the next one Charlie works with dragons. The other three you saw already, Percy's the prefect, and the Twins are Fred and George." Ron smiled and then looked as if he had just remembered something. "Oh, and Ginny's a year below us, so she'll start next year."

Ron waggled his eyebrows. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you about that, eh?"

"Um, sure," replied Harry, having no idea what Ron was talking about. "That sounds great, growing up with a magical family. My parents were magical, but I grew up with my relatives - Muggles."

To Harry's surprise, Ron scowled, as if he somehow already knew the Dursleys.

"Bloody Muggles," Ron cursed. "Remind me to do something about them, will you? Bars and all that nonsense."

"You don't hate Muggles, do you?" Harry asked worriedly.

Ron blinked in surprise. "What? No, of course not. I just can't stand the idea of a bunch of Muggles mistreating you."

"Hey," Harry's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about that?"

"Um, I don't!" Ron answered in a panic. "I mean, I just guessed. Everyone knows you grew up with Muggles, but the way you talk about them... I just guessed."

Harry sighed. "Well, I suppose you're a decent guesser then. The Dursleys were pretty awful, actually."

"Well, well, look who it is."

A familiar blond boy had entered the compartment - Harry remembered him as the rude boy from Madame Malkin's.

"You know," the boy said. "I feel like I should apologize for how I acted earlier. You know how it is, kids trying to impress each other."

Harry frowned. "I suppose," he said slowly.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the boy stuck out his hand.

"We know who you are!" Ron jumped out of his seat and yelled angrily. "Get your stinking arse out of here, Malfoy!"

"You dare..." Malfoy visibly took a very deep breath. "Listen, I don't even know who you are."

Ron's eye twitched then he suddenly looked very alarmed. "Oh, well, I've heard about your family from my dad."

Malfoy sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not my bloody father, okay? Are you the exact same person as your father?"

"No," Ron said slowly. "But that doesn't mean I trust you one whit."

"Fine," Malfoy spat. "I don't trust you either!"

"Say, has anyone seen a toad?"

A bushy-haired girl had walked into the compartment with a smile, although suddenly she stopped and looked worried.

"Oh dear," she mumbled almost too soft to hear. "Have I gotten the time wrong?"

"Um, hello," Ron said slowly, staring at the girl.

She looked up and stared back. "Hello, uh, there."

Harry was getting a bit exasperated with the whole business. "Hello, I'm Harry Potter."

The girl shook her head and looked back at Harry. She burst into a brilliant smile and rushed over, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously. "Oh, it's great to finally meet you!" She exclaimed. "I'm Hermione Granger - my parents were Muggles, so this is all so very exciting!"

She released Harry's arm and then stepped back, looking chagrined. "I mean, um, I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Very nice to meet you, Hermione Granger," Harry said politely. "I haven't read any of those books. Am I really in them?"

"Yes, but don't worry about it, they're all rubbish," Hermione grinned. "I'm just pleased to meet some new people." She looked at Malfoy and frowned. "Um, who are you?"

Malfoy sneered. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he then bowed. When he had straightened, he looked to have a very ugly expression on his face, as if he had just swallowed something vile.

"Very pleased to meet all of you," Malfoy told them. "I - I hope I see you all in Slytherin." This last bit seemed to have taken a great deal of will to say, and now Malfoy appeared very tired. The blond boy yawned, and then blinked in surprise. "I apologize, but I need to get some rest for now. See you at Hogwarts." Before anyone could reply, Malfoy had practically ran out of the compartment.

"That was odd," Harry mused.

"I don't like him," Ron snarled.

Hermione giggled. "Well, that's not entirely unreasonable, is it? A bit of an unpleasant fellow, wasn't he?'

Harry shrugged. "Sort of. But he did apologize for being a jerk in Diagon Alley, when I met him a month ago."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "He apologized? Is that true R-, um, sir?" she asked Ron.

Ron nodded. "Yup. Oh, and don't call me sir, it seems weird." His ears turned a bright red. "Um, you can just call me Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Pleased to meet you," Hermione replied with a little curtsy, and the two began staring at each other again.

"Say, if you'd like me to find another compartment, that's fine," Harry said, slightly annoyed.

"What? Oh, nonsense!" Hermione shook her head. "No, I'd love a chance to talk with you a bit before we need to change!"

"Um, well, all right," Harry said, sitting back down. Hermione stood there, smiling at him.

"Uh, won't you sit down?" Harry asked her.

Hermione suddenly looked like she was about to cry. "Oh, how nice of you. Yes, of course, how silly of me!" She slid into the seat across Harry.

Ron looked at the seat, and then across to Harry. "Hmm, I think I'll just stand."

"Don't be stupid," Harry told him. "Just sit down! There's plenty of room!"

Ron nodded and sat down, although he made sure to sit as far as possible on the seat away from Hermione.

Harry sighed. He couldn't tell if the two hated each other or had some odd crush, but either way it was massively uncomfortable.

"So, um," Harry started to say haltingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourselves?"

Both began answering at the same time, then looked at each other.

"You go ahead," said Hermione.

"No, I insist," replied Ron.

Harry groaned.

* * *

As they walked towards the Great Hall, Harry wondered just what was wrong with these new sort-of friends of his.

Hermione and Ron were still acting unbelievably awkwardly around each other, as if they had already met ages ago. And the things Ron sometimes said made absolutely no sense, although at least he had stopped laughing at everything. And Hermione... she alternated between odd musings and what sometimes sounded like material she had memorized from a book. Although from what he had already learned about her, that part wasn't so hard to believe.

And then there was Malfoy, hovering around them, never quite saying anything, but always looking as if he wanted to interject. Ron seemed to completely despise the blond boy, and Harry could tell that Hermione didn't care for him either, although she was better at hiding her distaste.

On the other hand, they all seemed to be pretty friendly to Harry, and that was unusual enough that he was willing to ignore their idiosyncrasies for the time being.

"How do you suppose we get sorted?" Harry asked Ron.

"The Hat," Ron answered flippantly.

Hermione whipped her head towards them. "How did you know that?"

"Um," Ron's eyes bugged out. "Percy told me. I wouldn't stop whining about it."

Malfoy snorted and smirked slightly.

"Shut it, you," Ron told him.

"So, what's the Hat?" Harry asked, pretending that nothing out of place had occurred.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll find out," Hermione said primly. She glared at Ron. "Won't we?"

Ron gulped. "Um, yes. I forgot - I mean, you do love rules, don't you?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I suppose so."

Harry decided to tune them out until the whole Sorting business was over. But when Professor McGonagall brought a Hat that actually sang to them...

"A Hat, eh?" Harry looked at Ron. "Did your brother tell you about that part?"

Ron frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm, I'm going to say... uh, no, he just slipped on the Hat part. He refused to say anything else though."

Hermione bit her lip nervously. "You know, it's possible that the Hat can read minds, based on that song. I wonder what it can see."

At this remark, both Ron and Malfoy were suddenly very alarmed.

Harry rolled his eyes. "What's the big deal? What secrets could a bunch of kids possibly have?"

Hermione laughed nervously. "Yes, good point, Harry, yes, very good point."

As the students began to be called up in alphabetical order, Harry's three 'friends' seemed to be getting more and more nervous. Hermione in particular looked as if she was about to faint.

When her name was called, Hermione just stood there.

"Come on then," Harry whispered to her. "Don't worry about it, you'll be fine."

Hermione looked back at him in surprise, then seemed to blink away some tears. She moved as if she was about to hug him, then just patted Harry on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, and walked over to the Hat.

The Hat made an odd noise, like an "Eh?", but then after only a second or so yelled "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron sighed in relief. "Oh, good. But wait, she's not the one out of..." He stopped talking and looked nervous again.

Eventually Malfoy was called over, looking quite anxious himself. The Hat instantly yelled out "SLYTHERIN!" Malfoy stumbled over the Slytherin table, seeming as if he wasn't quite sure he believed it was over.

Finally it was Harry's turn, and although the room began to erupt in whispers, Harry strode quickly over to the Hat, hoping to see what the big deal was anyway.

After the Hat had been lowered on Harry's head, it began to chuckle. "Hmm... I half expected you to be one... surprised you aren't."

"What's so funny?" Harry asked in annoyance.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, I wish I could tell. I really do. But we don't need to drag this on any farther, now do we? We both know where you belong."

"We do?" Harry asked, not completely sure himself.

"Yes, considering what has already happened twice already. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!" Instantly the Gryffindor table burst into applause and Harry walked over.

"Well done, Harry," Hermione told him. "Nothing to it, right? That was fast! The Hat barely had to think about it, didn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes, I guess."

Very soon it was Ron's turn, and Harry wasn't completely sure what he wanted.

Suddenly the Hat began to laugh out loud, and everyone in the room seemed taken aback. Even the Professors seemed shocked at this behavior.

"Oh, this is rich, it is," the Hat said. "Obviously yet another GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron raced over to the table, and sat next to Harry, looking tremendously relieved but also a bit annoyed.

"Stupid Hat," he said. "Started laughing but wouldn't tell me why."

"Maybe it thought you had a good sense of humor," Harry pointed out. "You did laugh a lot when I first met you."

Ron laughed at that. "Nice one, Harry. You're all right, aren't you?"

Harry shook his head in amusement. "I certainly hope so."

* * *

One thing Harry Potter knew for sure was that his friends weren't so bad, really - but they were all really quite odd.

They were nice - always helping Harry through the maze-like corridors of Hogwarts when he was getting lost. And yet they always seemed to know more than they should - including what seemed like instinctive abilities to navigate the school when every other first-year was stumbling over hidden stairs and walking in endless circles.

And then there was the classwork.

In their first Charms class, Professor Flitwick, a tiny little wizard, squeaked when he read Harry's name and fell off a pile of books. Instantly Ron and Hermione began to laugh, although they stopped immediately when the Professor glared at them. It was in Transfiguration that Harry began to feel a sense of the two - both managed to perfectly change a match into a needle, but their other actions couldn't have been more different. Hermione sat completely at attention the entire class, whereas Ron actually fell asleep - Professor McGonagall was quite cross until he managed the transfiguration successfully with utter effortlessness.

At which point she seemed a bit pleased and awarded five points each to Gryffindor.

On the other hand, sometimes they acted identically - in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, both Ron and Hermione seemed about ready to attack poor Professor Quirrell at any moment.

At first Harry though he was misreading the situation, noticing minor aberrations in their behavior. Ron bit his lip and clenched his fist while looking intently at the Professor, while Hermione kept rubbing her wand, her eyes just to the side. Harry decided that they were just focused on the lecture, difficult though it was to understand through all the stuttering, but as the Defense class went on, things got worse. When answering a question, Hermione's words were nothing but polite, but it was almost like she spat them out. And Ron just grunted in response to everything.

"You sure didn't like the Professor," commented Harry after the class.

Ron scowled. "He just seems like bad news, if you ask me."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I quite agree. He's obviously hiding something."

"If you say so." Harry shrugged.

But the most dramatic day would be Friday, when they attended Potions class with the Slytherins. Harry was wondering if Malfoy would muster the courage to finally talk to him, as he seemed to be unable to speak every time they had passed each other in the halls.

Of course, it turned out that everyone had a bit of advice for him.

"You know, Harry," Hermione told him. "I heard from Hagrid that Professor Snape and your mother were very close friends. You should stop in a few minutes early and ask him about her."

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" Ron asked, looking hardly convinced. "It's obvious he hates everybody."

"I know that!" Hermione replied angrily. "But maybe they could get off on the right foot instead of hating each other. Oh!" She grinned suddenly. "You should tell him you grew up with your relatives. I think he knew them too."

"Um, sure," Harry wasn't quite sure about it, but he agreed, as their advice had been fairly good so far. And as Harry was walking ten minutes early to the Potions classroom, Malfoy finally accosted him with some words of wisdom.

"Listen, Potter," Malfoy said with gritted teeth. "Snape's a cowardly bully, but he'll respect you more if you don't antagonize him. Try to be nice and respectful, would you?"

"I wasn't planning to misbehave, Malfoy," Harry informed his rarely seen acquaintance. "I'm not an idiot."

Malfoy's mouth curled up and he nodded. "See you in class, then."

Professor Snape was quite surprised to see Harry.

"What do _you_ want?" he asked acidly.

"Well, I heard that you were really close friends with my mum," Harry said slowly.

Snape sat upright in surprise, then his eyes narrowed. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded.

"I think first from Hagrid, actually," answered Harry.

"I see," Snape said softly. "Well, that's possible, I suppose."

"I didn't really hear anything about her growing up," Harry went on in a hurry. "My relatives didn't even mention my parents except that they died in a car crash."

"They did what?" Snape's eyes glittered dangerously.

Harry held up his hands quickly. "Wait, I know the truth now. It was Voldemort-" Snape flinched.

"Sorry, You-Know-Who that killed them. Hagrid told me."

"Hmph," Snape grunted. "Hagrid is telling you quite a bit, isn't he?" Then his eyes widened and he breathed in sharply. "Wait a moment. You grew up with relatives, you said? Which relatives? On your father's side?"

Harry shook his head. "No, with my aunt and uncle. Aunt Petunia was my Mum's sister, did you know her too?"

Snape's mouth tightened and he began to look a bit angry. "I did not realize you had been living with that... woman. Did she even tell you anything of Hogwarts at all?"

"No, sir," replied Harry. "They didn't like magic much - actually they pretended it didn't exist until Hagrid showed up."

The Potions Professor rubbed his temples as though he was getting a headache. "I don't have time for this now, Potter. Perhaps I'll have time later to talk about your mother. But for now, take your seat for class - it's only another few minutes in any event."

Harry grinned. "Thank you sir!" It appeared that his friends advice had worked like a charm. He found a desk and happily went to work pulling out his parchment and Potions supplies. Every so often, the Professor would look at him with an odd expression, and then look away.

Well, perhaps it was hard for him to be reminded of his old friend being dead for so many years. Harry missed his parents and he'd never even known them. Professor Snape had actually been friends with them.

Soon enough, the other students trickled in. Hermione practically ran over to grab the seat next to Harry, leaving a very annoyed Ron to share a cauldron with Neville Longbottom. Malfoy took a seat behind them, looking quite exhausted indeed.

When everyone had found seats, Snape began to take roll call - but when he got to Harry's name, he paused.

"Hmm, Harry Potter," he said softly. "Our new... _celebrity_." At this, Ron and Hermione instantly became obviously infuriated.

For his part, Harry didn't get it, and looked at the Professor with confusion. Snape avoided Harry's look and continued on with the roll. When he finished, he put down the list and looked up at the class with a sort of thoughtful expression.

"This is not a typical class," Snape said in an intense but quiet voice. "You will rarely require your wands, but will instead require more will and concentration than all other classes put together. And it requires you to think on your feet."

He turned to Harry and looked at him carefully. "Mr. Potter - in the boil-curing potion, do you add the porcupine quills before or after removing the potion from the fire?"

"Oh!" Harry blinked, as this sounded quite familiar. "Um, after, I think."

Snape nodded, looking pleased. "Perhaps a slightly more advanced question, then. What would be a good use for Essence of Murtlap?"

Hermione began waving her hand around frantically, and actually moved to block Snape's view of Harry. Not to be outdone, Ron started waving his hand as well.

"What... put your hands down," Snape snapped at them. "When I ask you a question, you will know it!"

"Typical," spat Hermione, then her face froze, looking as if she had meant to say anything.

Professor Snape looked as he did not believe what he had heard. "No speaking unless I call on you. Five points for breaking the rules."

"Well, that makes a lot of sense!" Ron snarled.

"Silence! That will be another ten points from Gryffindor for that little outburst!" He visibly composed himself. "So, Mister Potter?"

"Um, sorry about them," Harry said softly.

The Professor snorted. "It wasn't you that was behaving like an ill-mannered brat. Do you have an answer?"

"I think so," Harry answered. "I don't remember the name of it, but I think murtlap is often used for healing potions."

"Well thought out," Snape replied with a smirk. "I think you have a good handle on the problem so far. One final question, I think. Which one potion requires stewing lacewing flies twenty-one days and picking fluxweed at a full moon?"

"But sir, that's unfair," Hermione hissed angrily. "How could you expect a first year to know about it? Polyjuice is a Restricted potion!"

"And how exactly do you know that, Miss Granger, being a first year yourself?" Snape riposted. "And what did I just say about speaking out of turn? Another ten points for idiocy."

"Oh, will you just leave her alone then?" Ron asked scathingly. "As if you'd act the same way towards one of your precious Slytherins."

Malfoy snorted then looked as if he hadn't meant to do anything.

Snape whirled towards Draco furiously. "Something to add, Mr. Malfoy?"

The young Slytherin student sighed. "Oh, I doubt you'd want to hear it."

"I'm all ears," the Professor said in a warning tone.

"Well, perhaps the Gryffindor idiots have a point, _sir_," Malfoy said in a surprisingly bitter voice. "Maybe if you weren't so discriminatory towards other houses, Slytherins wouldn't be treated so poorly." He paused and then said, "I've heard things."

"You've _heard_ things?" Snape hissed. "Think I'm afraid to take points from my own house, do you? You are quite wrong on that account, Mister Malfoy, despite what your father may have told you. That will be thirty points from Slytherin for blatant disrespect. And another twenty points from Gryffindor for equally appalling behavior."

"How could you?" Hermione suddenly burst into tears. "It's your fault - it's all your fault!" She buried her face in her hands.

"Are you out of your mind?" The Professor asked with a confused glare. "You're not making any sense! Stop crying this moment!"

"You're just being a bully," Ron growled, standing up and shaking his fist.

Snape's eyes narrowed and he looked quite furious. "Sit down this moment," he said in a quiet, dangerous manner. "This sort of behavior might get you expelled."

"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked sarcastically. "Worried that some _children _might be getting the best of you? Have to threaten expulsion for every little thing?"

"_Enough_!" Snape yelled. "Detention! All three of you! And sit down before I throw you out!" After the three sat down, glaring all the while, Snape rubbed his head again.

"As I believe I was saying before," the Professor said in a strained voice. "Mr. Potter, any ideas?"

"Well," Harry said carefully, afraid to say anything after all that. "I think Hermione mentioned Polyjuice Potion, although I don't know what that is."

Snape snorted. "Ah, well, yes that's it exactly. At least you were paying attention." He then turned to the rest of the class and glared. "And why has no one else been taking notes? Does anyone else fancy detention as well?"

The three seemed to realize how badly they had acted, and spent the remainder of the class pretending they hadn't done anything wrong at all. It didn't stop Snape from watching them all murderously.

All in all, Potions wasn't so bad, really.

* * *

As they all stood outside for their flying lesson, his friends seemed as anxious as ever - well, with the possible exception of Ron, who kept rubbing his hands together and chortling to himself.

"This is gonna be great, Harry," Ron informed him. "Flying's the best."

"Stupid brooms," grumbled Hermione to herself.

Everything went rather smoothly until Neville fell from his broom and had to be taken to the hospital wing. After Madame Hooch and Neville had run off, everyone just stood around waiting.

Ron and Hermione kept looking at Malfoy expectantly, as if they thought he was about to do something dramatic as well.

Finally Malfoy seemed to notice they were looking at him and his jaw dropped.

"Oh, right," he said. "Ah, damn it, what was it that happened again?"

"Say, Malfoy," Ron said cautiously. "Have something there, do you?"

"Actually, no," Malfoy replied grumpily.

Ron frowned. "Are you _quite_ sure?"

"Why, look what it is!" Hermione interjected and pointed to the ground. "It's Neville's Remembrall - he must've dropped it."

Malfoy nodded. "Ah, yes, that stupid thing. Um, blast."

Harry looked between them and then sighed heavily. "Fine, I can take a hint. I'll give it back to him when gets out of the hospital wing." He leaned down and picked up the shiny globe. "You know, it's not exactly the hardest thing to pick something up off the ground."

No one said anything for a few moments.

"Um, is there something going on here?" Parvati asked.

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione asked airily.

"Say, Harry," Ron brightened. "Fancy a catch?"

"With Neville's thing?" Harry frowned. "No, I wouldn't want to break it. Besides, the teacher told us if we flew without her we'd get expelled."

Ron and Malfoy scoffed at that.

"Nonsense," Ron said with a smirk.

"As if they'd expel the Golden Boy for such a petty offense," Malfoy sneered.

Harry laughed. "The Golden Boy? Haven't heard that one before."

"Well, you know what I mean," Malfoy stammered. "You haven't lost any points yet."

"Just because I don't insult Professors to their faces doesn't make me the Golden Boy," Harry chuckled. "Maybe you lot should watch how you act in class."

"He has a point, Draco," Pansy simpered to the other Slytherin. "You shouldn't be disrespecting Professor Snape like some common _Gryffindor_."

Hermione and Ron burst into laughter in response.

"What a brilliant insult," Ron crowed.

"She sure put us in our place, didn't she?" Hermione wiped away merry tears from her eyes.

Pansy glared at them. "I expect you are some sort of bad influence on Draco. That's the only explanation."

"Brilliant!" Ron said again. "Well reasoned, Parkinson. All part of our evil plan to make Malfoy even _more_ of a git."

Hermione smacked him. "You needn't be _that_ rude."

"You are all mad," Harry informed them.

"I'm not!" Parvati said in a scandalized tone.

"Well, maybe not you," Harry allowed. "But perhaps that's just because you haven't had the chance to act oddly yet."

"Come on, Harry," Ron motioned to the brooms. "Catch?"

Harry scowled. "No! I don't fancy detention the way you seem to."

"Well, fine then," Ron said with an bizarre look in his eyes. "If that's the way you - _Accio_ Remembrall!" The small globe leaped out of Harry's hands and Ron caught it after a bit of fumbling. "C'mon Harry, if you want it, you gotta follow!"

Ron jumped on a broom and soared up into the air.

"You aren't going to let him show you up like that, are you?" Malfoy asked. "I'm not!" He grabbed another broom and flew up to pace Ron. "Throw it here, Weasley!"

Ron shrugged. "Eh, why not?" He tossed the Remembrall quite hard at Malfoy, who still managed to catch it, although it was a close thing.

"Harry, you aren't going to let them get away with that, are you?" Hermione bugged him.

"If I don't, I suppose you'll join their craziness?" Harry sighed.

"No, I'm rubbish at flying," Hermione said, shaking her head. "But look at them! They'll break it for sure! Neville will be heartbroken."

"Fine!" Harry almost yelled and glared at her. "I hate you guys, you know that?"

Hermione just smiled.

But when Harry jumped into the air, suddenly he became quite a bit less angry. The sensations, the movements that followed his will - it was all _marvelous_.

"Uh oh," Ron called out with a grin. "Here he comes!"

Malfoy snorted. "Well, Potter - you think you can beat me to it?"

"When I get it back from both of you," Harry said solemnly, albeit with an enormous grin. "We are all landing immediately."

"Confident, aren't you?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Weasley, toss it and let's see who catches it first!"

Ron grinned and threw the Remembrall towards the ground with all his strength.

Malfoy darted after, but Harry followed almost instinctively, managing to accelerate and weave around the Slytherin until he was barely passing him.

"Hardly fair," Malfoy grunted out. "Bloody cheater."

Harry just ignored this and kept his eyes on the falling orb. And barely two feet before the ground, Harry curved and grabbed the Remembrall. He grinned at Malfoy, who had pulled up a bit behind, and lowered himself onto the ground.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. "I'll never get used to that. You looked like you were about to hit the ground!"

"You told me to fly after them," Harry reminded her. "So none of that now."

"Uh oh," Parvati mumbled. "It's McGonagall!"

Sure enough, the Transfiguration Professor was storming over, sputtering incoherently.

She glared up at the still hovering Ron. "Ronald Weasley, get down here this instant!"

McGonagall turned her angry gaze towards Harry and Malfoy. "What is the meaning of this... blatant disregard for safety?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Just a game of catch."

"Excuse me?" Harry whirled. "That's not how it happened."

"They grabbed Neville's Remembrall and started playing with it," Parvati informed their teacher. "And basically forced Harry to come after them to get it back."

"Weasley and Malfoy?" McGonagall seemed quite taken aback. "They goaded Mr. Potter into flying against the rules?"

"Yes!" Pansy spat. "It's ridiculous!"

"And was no one thinking clearly?" McGonagall demanded.

"Harry didn't want to play around," Parvati said with relish. "But Ron and Hermione and Malfoy all were trying to break the rules!"

McGonagall frowned at Hermione. "Miss Granger, is that true?"

"Well," Hermione said slowly. "Sort of."

The Professor sighed and rubbed her head, in a way that Harry felt like copying himself.

"All right, I think each of you will get a detention for breaking school rules," she decided. "Except for you, Mr. Potter. You come with me, right now."

"But..." Harry sputtered.

"Enough!" McGonagall cut him off. "Let's go."

When Harry came back to the Gryffindor table that evening, he glared at his friends.

"Wha izzit?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food.

"I'm the new seeker for the Quidditch team," Harry said angrily.

"That's great!" Hermione beamed.

"Yes, it is!" Parvati squealed. "Did you get detention too?"

Harry shook his head. "No, McGonagall said it was obvious I'd been forced into it - but that I clearly had some talent."

"You do," Hermione agreed with a smile.

Ron sighed. "I wish I could've gotten on the team too."

"You were being a prat out there," Parvati informed him. "You're lucky you lot weren't expelled." Then she gasped. "You don't think Malfoy was made Seeker on the Slytherin team, do you?"

"I hope not," Ron grumbled. "But I wouldn't put past that slimy Snape."

Harry grunted in annoyance and sat down to get some food. "Snape hates all three you equally, I think. Why would he put someone he hated on the team?"

Ron brightened. "That's a good point, Harry."

"Aren't you even annoyed you've gotten two detentions in the first month?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not particularly."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It's just detention."

"You're both nutters," Harry grumbled to himself.

As they all walked back to the dorm later that night, Ron suddenly stopped and gasped.

"What now?" Harry groaned.

"Um... nothing," Ron stammered. "Just wondered why Malfoy didn't come over to bug us."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "That's true. I wonder what he's up to."

"Who cares?" Harry almost yelled. "I wonder what _you both _are up to."

"Nothing!" Ron yelped.

Hermione shook her head rapidly. "Why would I be up to anything?"

"I think your friends are all crazy," Parvati whispered to Harry.

"Yeah," Harry sighed. "They are." Then he shrugged. "But they're still my friends."


	2. Chapter 2: I Say, That's Enough of That

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its associated properties is owned by JK Rowling and her partners**

**It's only taken me 1½ years, but I've _finally _come up with a plot for this thing, which means I can continue it, as opposed to just the nonsense of the first one. I highly recommend rereading the first chapter if you haven't already - I've made a lot of changes to dialogue and the like, fixed errors, etc. Chapter 2 is also nearly 13000 words, so that's some consolation, right? And it only took me a week and a half to write, so I'm getting faster. Eventually I hope to be at a point where I can casually spit out 50000 words a day. That'll be great. Fingers crossed, eh?**

* * *

The warrior sat in his battered clothes atop the corpse of the thing that had shattered the world. In the end, it seemed almost anticlimactic to destroy Voldemort after everything he had done to set the planet on fire. It seemed almost... too easy.

But it had not been a simple path to get to that point - the brave and blood-spattered wizard had lost so many friends it scarcely mattered that he had eviscerated so many foes as well. Countless Dark wizards and witches had died by his wand, including some that had brought him enormous relief.

Not one of those deaths could make up for the losses of his closest friends, dead for over a decade. Murdered by the machinations of the now comatose Riddle. If he was honest to himself, he always thought that Riddle would have had some exit strategy - a way to get out if he couldn't win. Although Riddle was so very arrogant, he might never have even thought to use it.

But that didn't mean that Riddle hadn't planned for such a thing. A quick and thorough search of the body revealed an item that sent a chill down his spine. An old artifact, but one of shocking power - modified by Riddle himself, if the warrior had it right. He looked at the devastation around him, the results of a pitched and frenzied battle - so much death. So much suffering.

There was always the possibility that it was a final trap by Riddle, something that would erase all the efforts done to avenge the death of Harry, of Ron, of Hermione... of all his friends. But as he looked down at the very old watch, he realized that it no longer mattered. He wanted a chance to change things for the better. Riddle had first been defeated on a Halloween so long ago, and now his final defeat was on the eve of the holiday nearly thirty years later. It seemed fitting.

It was so simple and easy to use the watch, but as it ticked backwards, it began to crumble into dust. A one-way trip then. Fair enough.

* * *

As the years had passed and the country healed from the scars of the war, he pretended it didn't bother him. One victory after another, and he fooled himself into thinking it mattered.

A string of World Cup triumphs, and he told himself it made up for the loss so long ago.

But then, after nearly three decades of blind and foolish living, he shattered his arm, and was forced into retirement - he would never be able to play again. After a hundred horrible, drunken nights, a bizarre thought came into his addled mind. If he could somehow go back and win that Quidditch Cup, then everything would somehow work out. He had an obscene amount of money from his many years playing and endorsing products - he had never much cared for spending the money, so it just sat there, building up over time.

Even with all the money a former World Cup star could bring to bear, the search took many years. Until one day he learned of an old shimmering of reality that happened on Hallow's Eve at Stonehenge once every century - and he just was in time to catch it in a year hence. At that precise moment, the eye of a thousand thousand rituals echoed throughout time would collapse on point, theoretically pushing anything in the circle to one point in time. And with a bit of manipulation, the destination could be controlled and determined. That final year of waiting and preparing passed slowly and terribly, but he passed the time planning play after brilliant play, ready to take the Quidditch world of the past by storm.

So when the day arrived, he stepped into the perfectly prepared spell circle in the middle of Stonehenge, more than happy to travel back to where it could all be fixed - probably. And then everything else would just work itself out - more than likely.

* * *

Poor Harry. The dying boy lay in his arms, a peaceful expression on his face.

"You did your best, truly," he said softly, coughing up blood. But the older boy couldn't help but sob - he had not been able to keep the young Gryffindor alive. And now Voldemort was out there, back again, ready to plunge the world into war.

The older boy's eyes narrowed and suddenly everything became crystal clear. He would avenge Harry's murder and take down Voldemort, whatever the cost. No matter what sacrifices were required. And somehow, someday, he would find a way to settle the score for not protecting Harry.

But it wouldn't be quite that easy. Although his girlfriend and Harry's friends were only too happy to help fight against Voldemort, or Riddle as it was soon learned was the bastard's true name, such efforts were just momentary delays in Riddle's mad attack against all the world.

It would be the turning point on the anniversary of the death of Harry's parents, a bleak and dismal Halloween, as the sad man sat and commiserated with the surviving fighters. Because Hermione, always a great resource and brilliant fighter, had finally had enough. She had a fantastic plan, one that apparently she had been working on for ages. Send someone back in time to save Harry and destroy Riddle. Everyone argued that she be the one to go back, but that was impossible - she was the only one who could trigger the time gate - by the eldritch and horrible sacrifice of her own soul.

So it turned to the now subdued but determined man, as their leader for so many years, to go back and leave everyone behind. He promised them all that his chief priority would be Harry's safety, and then to destroy Riddle. Although he could not take any physical materials with him, Hermione had given him ridiculous amounts of information to memorize about Harry's early life.

Hopefully he could remember it all. Hopefully he could finally settle the anger and hatred he had felt for himself since he had seen Harry die in his arms. Not this time. Harry would live - at all costs.

* * *

**Far Too Many Time Travelers**

**Chapter 2: I Say, That's Enough of That**

* * *

The next day got off to quite a rousing start when Ron punched Malfoy in the face.

It started innocently enough, of course, with Harry enjoying his breakfast with his crazy friends - and then Harry had received a brand new broom for his Quidditch training. While most of the table enthused and responded enthusiastically, Hermione kept looking over at the Slytherin and glaring at Malfoy, who glared right back at her. Eventually Ron stopped eating long enough to notice and then he stood.

"Malfoy, bee in your bonnet?" He yelled bizarrely across the room. "Something in your eye?"

"Shut your mouth, Weasley!" Malfoy yelled back.

Hermione hissed at Ron. "Sit down, Ronald! What are you doing? You'll get in trouble!" Then a very odd expression appeared on her face, and she looked back and forth between Ron and Malfoy. She frowned and then suddenly gasped.

"What is it?" Harry asked in curiosity.

"That was a mistake," muttered Parvati to him.

"Um, oh did you hear what Malfoy called me?" Hermione said and covered her face with her hands. "Something awful earlier today."

Ron looked over and there was a dark fury in his eyes. "What did that bastard say to you?" He asked in a low and angry voice.

McGonagall appeared suddenly near them. "Mr. Weasley, what is the meaning of this outburst?"

"Nothing," Ron answered with an overly calm tone. "Nothing at all." He sat back down and continued eating, although his eyes never left Malfoy across the Hall.

"I certainly hope not," the Professor told him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You have quite enough detentions already, I'd imagine." She then strode off dramatically back to the Head Table.

When she was out of earshot, Ron asked, "What did he call you?"

"Oh, I shouldn't repeat it, whatever it was," Hermione said dismissively, and pulled out some parchment. She wrote down something and then quickly folded it up. "I really must be off, I forgot something in my room. See you in class!"

This didn't seem to help Ron's mood, as he continued to brood angrily until they left the Hall and started walking to class. Unfortunately Malfoy then apparently decided to make another appearance. Normally this wouldn't necessarily be so bad, but Draco couldn't seem to stop himself from insulting Ron again.

"Why do you hang around this moron, Potter?" Malfoy asked derisively. "Granger I can understand to some extent - she's a smart one, for a mudblood."

"Is that what you called her?" Ron tightened his fists and glared at the Slytherin.

Malfoy shrugged dismissively. "And if I did?"

And then Ron punched him, before anyone else could react.

"Ron!" Harry gasped and pulled him back. "What did you do that for?"

Malfoy growled and pulled out his wand.

"Wait a minute!" Harry said quickly. "Let's not go crazy here. We don't even know any good spells for cursing yet anyway."

"I suppose that's true, Potter," Malfoy said slowly. "Just tell that to Weasley. Might take a few times to get through that thick skull of his." With a huff, he turned and walked away.

"Hmm," Parvati frowned. "I hate to say it, but if Malfoy really _did_ call Hermione that name, perhaps he had it coming."

Ron turned to her and grinned widely. "Thanks Parvati! Gryffindors forever, right?" He brandished a fist and winked at them.

"What was the name again?" Harry asked. "I didn't quite catch it."

Parvati looked around a bit with a worried expression. "Well, it's a very offensive word. You don't see any professors around, do you?"

"Nope!" Ron said, still smiling like a loon. "Otherwise I'd have probably gotten another detention."

"Very true," muttered Parvati. "Well, Harry, the word Malfoy used was 'mudblood' - it's an awfully cruel thing to call Muggle-borns, so mind you don't repeat it!"

Harry held up his hands. "Don't worry, I won't! Are you sure Malfoy knew what it meant?"

"Oh, he knew all right," Ron said with a scowl. "Probably heard it from Mummy or dear old Dad."

Parvati shrugged apologetically at Harry. "As mad as Ron usually is, he's probably right about that. The Malfoys are pretty big into blood purity."

"I see," Harry replied, thinking about it. There seemed to be layers to magical society he hadn't even considered. "I suppose that Malfoy seems like a jerk, but maybe he doesn't know any better if he was raised that way."

"Giving him an awful lot of credit," Parvati told him with a snicker.

"Too much," Ron growled as Hermione ran up just as they reached the classroom.

"Oh, good!" She exclaimed. "I'm not late. Did I miss anything?"

* * *

Later in the evening, while most people sat around working on their classwork, Ron just moped about and scribbled little drawings on his parchment.

"So bored..." he moaned.

Hermione glared at him. "If you're so bored you can't help but bother everyone else, you could always find a book in the Library you've yet to read. Or, if you're you, maybe you could write a list of things you need to accomplish."

"Huh." Ron grunted. "That's not such a bad idea. The second one, not the Library one."

"Or you could help Harry with his homework."

"Hey, I'm doing fine," Harry insisted, although this was only mostly true. He had missed some time to work that evening with his Quidditch training earlier, although that bit was actually fun. "Not everyone can be a genius like you two."

Ron laughed loudly. "Yeah, that's me, a genius. Shocking business, innit? Who'd have guessed little Ronnie would already know everything? My Mum'll be so proud." He stopped smiling and then looked quite contemplative. "You know, I should write to her. And Dad, too. Hell, I should write Bill and Charlie too, it's been ages since I've seen them." He got up and hurried out of the common area.

Hermione watched him go with a surprised look on her face, then she smiled slightly and shook her head. "Oh, Ron."

"Oh, Ron, is it?" Harry asked in exasperation. "I don't get you two. It's like you have your own secret genius language or something."

"Something like that," replied Hermione in a very soft voice. "Although I imagine he hasn't realized it yet."

Harry rolled his eyes at the cryptic nonsense, which was quite typical for Hermione or Ron. "As much as you two hate Malfoy, and I will admit he can be a bit of a pain, at least he's not a crazy genius above the rest of us. Sometimes I think he's actually more normal than you two."

"What a thing to say!" Hermione gasped. "Harry James Potter, you take that back!"

"Have you thought that maybe he's the way he is because of his parents?" Harry riposted. "And that perhaps he's trying to be decent, but it's hard for him."

Hermione huffed. "No, I do not." This seemed to end her side of the argument, and Harry didn't really feel like continuing it.

Soon enough, Harry grew too tired to continue working and began to gather up his things.

"Oh, before you go," Hermione said without looking up from her book. "I recently read in the newspaper about a disease that's been going around magical pets. You should tell Neville and Ron to have their little friends checked out by Madame Pomfrey."

"Okay," Harry said, a bit taken aback. "Do you think Hedwig might need to be looked at too?"

Hermione paused and she seemed to be thinking. "Hmm, I don't believe so. I'm pretty sure that the warning was only about mammals, reptiles, and amphibians. Birds should be alright, otherwise they'd have to check the entire Owlery. And in that case, they'd get to Hedwig anyhow." She smiled at him. "Night!"

"Good night" Harry replied in amusement. He wasn't sure how she could manage to still be so chipper so late in the night, but perhaps she was used to it.

When Harry got to his dorm, Ron was in the middle of writing a long note and Neville was reading something in his bed. Seamus was staring out the window while Dean had already fallen asleep.

"Hey Neville, Ron!" Harry said a bit quietly, so as not to disturb Dean. "Hermione told me about a disease that's been spreading for magical pets."

Neville paled. "What?"

Ron looked up from his note in surprise. "Huh?"

"Yeah, so you should get Madame Pomfrey - um, whoever that is - to take a look at Trevor and Scabbers."

"She's the nurse and Matron of the Hospital Wing," Neville explained. "But I didn't know she could heal animals too."

"Scabbers." Ron said this word and then his eyes grew very wide. He sat up straight as he was about to jump out of bed. Then he took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself down. "Um, right. Thanks for the tip, Harry. I'll take him over tomorrow."

He then grinned a very nasty sort of grin and winked at Harry.

But in the scheme of things, this was hardly so unusual behavior coming from Ron, so Harry found it quite easy to ignore it entirely.

* * *

The next morning Ron got up shockingly early and seemed to be far too good a mood.

"I've got Scabbers all ready to be checked out," he told a still bleary Harry. "Neville, you coming?"

"Er, no, not yet," replied Neville slowly. "I'm not even dressed yet. And what about breakfast? Are you just going to skip it?"

"Hmm," Ron frowned as he considered this new bit of information. "I suppose you're right. I just worry so much about - " at this he held up his rat and made a silly face -"poor widdle Scabbers. Don't want him to be sick, right?"

"Just go after breakfast," Harry said, pulling himself out of bed, but really wanted to go back to sleep. "And don't let them on the table, it'd be gross."

"Well spotted, Harry," Ron shot him a wink. "I suppose you're the genius around here after all, eh?"

Harry just rolled his eyes and shared a glance with Neville, who looked just as confused.

Ron ate his breakfast even faster than normal, and then began to rock back and forth in anticipation. "Come on, Nev! We've gotta take our pets to be checked out!"

"One minute," replied Neville. "I'm almost done."

"What's wrong with your pets?" Parvati asked and then winced. "Why did I ask?" she muttered softly.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing serious," Hermione assured her. "Just something the _Daily Prophet_ is advising - something about a new disease that non-owls might be susceptible to." She turned and smiled and Ron and Neville. "I can go with you for moral support, if you're worried about it."

Ron raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Alright," he said slowly. "Couldn't hurt, right?"

Neville got up and picked up a small box where he had been keeping Trevor. He took a quick look inside the air holes. "Good, he's still here. You ready, Ron?"

"Of course!" Ron said, leaping up in excitement. "Harry, are you coming?"

"I wasn't planning on it," Harry replied, a bit taken aback.

Ron leaned over and whispered, "but look at poor Neville. He's so nervous."

Harry tried to casually look at Neville without being obvious, a bit skeptical of Ron's claim. Although it was often true that Neville tended to be nervous - but on the other hand, Ron was nuts.

"And it's a good idea to know where the Hospital Wing is, anyway," Ron pointed out.

"Fine," Harry said finally with a sigh. "I suppose that much is at least somewhat logical."

"You're going too?" Parvati asked, looking quite worried. She grimaced and got up herself. "Very well, I suppose I don't have a choice."

"I'm sure it'll be crowded enough already," Hermione told her calmly.

Parvati looked at her with suspicion. "I don't know what you're planning with Neville or Harry, but I'm coming too."

"Parv!" Lavender Brown gasped with shock.

"I'll be fine," Parvati assured her friend. "Don't worry."

"Besides," she told Harry as they walked to the infirmary. "If you don't get some exposure to some normal people, you might end up like your crazy genius friends."

Harry laughed and then frowned. "I hope not."

"What's going on here?" An older woman that could only be Madame Pomfrey frowned at the various Gryffindors approaching. "Is there some kind of emergency?"

"No, nothing like that," Ron said quickly and then brandished his rat. "I brought Scabbers and Neville brought his toad Trevor to be checked out."

"You can do that, right?" Hermione asked in a slightly worried tone.

Pomfrey made a disapproving sound. "I can," she said after a moment. "But I tend not focus on animals - specifically there are issues with magical animals you should really go to Professor Kettleburn for. But for simple pets as rats or toads, I suppose I can perform a limited review. Is there a particular reason you all came today?"

"There was a rumor of a disease spreading against magical pets," Hermione cut in. "So I passed that information along."

"I hadn't heard anything like that," Pomfrey said with a frown. "But I suppose I can ask the Headmaster to make an announcement about it. We wouldn't want an outbreak after all. And I think I will be speaking to Silvanus - that's Professor Kettleburn - about it to make sure I'm not forgetting something." She looked over at Harry and Parvati. "And you two, why are you here?"

"Moral support," Harry grumbled and then tried to smile at the nurse.

Pomfrey looked like she did not quite believe this, but then she nodded. "Very well, as I don't have anyone else here at the moment, I suppose it's acceptable for now. You are Neville Longbottom, correct?"

Neville nodded and held up his perforated box.

"I make it a point to learn all first years by name and face," the nurse said a bit smugly. "Hand your pet over then." She waved her wand and the box opened. Another quick wave and Trevor was suddenly absolutely still.

"Wow, what was that spell?" Hermione enthused.

"A simple binding spell," Pomfrey explained. "It's entirely painless but we don't want the 'patient' running off, do we?" She performed a few other spells, lighting up the room with various bright colors for several moments. "Hmm, I don't see anything abnormal. Perhaps a bit underfed, but that's easily remedied if you remember to feed him on a regular basis."

"I try, Madam," Neville insisted, looking a bit scared. "But sometimes he disappears for hours or more. I assume he's eating flies or something."

Pomfrey pursed her lips. "Be more careful in the future," she told him sharply. "Toads are easy to overlook, and you wouldn't want anyone to hurt him, would you?"

Neville shook his silently and accepted back his toad.

"Now, for Mister Ronald Weasley, correct? And your pet is a rat?"

Ron nodded and proffered the rat, who seemed quite insensate.

"Hmm," Pomfrey waved her wand in a similar fashion as before, then she frowned. "What's his name?"

"Scabbers!" Ron told her with a grin. "I inherited from Percy, my older brother."

"Yes, yes, I know who he is," the nurse said with a bit of a catch in her throat. "And how old would you say Scabbers is?"

Ron scratched his head. "Hard to say, really. Gotta be at least ten years. Is that odd for rats? I've always assumed he was quite old."

"I think we had better get Silvanus up here to take a look at him," Pomfrey said worriedly. "Something's not right."

"Is he okay?" Ron asked loudly.

Harry looked at him strangely - it was odd, Ron seemed almost... _happy_ that his pet might be ill. Or perhaps it was just additional craziness.

Pomfrey lit up an odd green fire in a nearby brazier. "Silvanus, a word if you are there."

"What is that she's talking into?" Harry asked in a low voice.

"Floo" - this came from every other person at once, so Harry was more than a bit taken aback.

Parvati scowled at them. "Why don't you let _me_ explain it for once?"

Ron held up his hands to fend her off. "Fine, fine. Do what you want."

Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded.

"Floo is the way wizards and witches talk to each other over long distances," explained Parvati brightly, turning away from the others in what seemed quite intentional. "We use a special sort of powder, called Floo Powder naturally, and the hearth or fireplace or whatever has to be connected to the Floo Network."

"The Ministry controls the Network and sets it up," Ron put in, but then stopped speaking when Parvati glared at him.

"_Anyway_, the Ministry does have a special department to manage Floo connections, adding them to people's houses or business," Parvati continued with another glare at Ron. "You can also use it to travel between two places in a moment if you know the name of the place where you're going. Like The Leaky Cauldron or the Hog's Head, and so on."

"Oh, I get it," Harry said. "It's sort like a mix between telephones - that's a Muggle thing - and something truly magical. I suppose I should've expected a kind of teleporting thing."

"Fellytones, you say?" Ron asked with a grin. "My dad's mad about them. Has no idea how they work, mind you."

Hermione looked a bit annoyed at this. "Ron, they are called _telephones_. Te-leh-phones. Not feh-lee-tones. It's not that hard."

"I can say it!" Parvati interrupted quickly. "It's telefons! Is that right, Harry?"

"Close," he told her apologetically. "Not telefons, tele-_phones_."

"Not so easy, is it?" Ron quipped.

"Shut it, Weasley!" Parvati scowled at him.

Then Harry saw a man step out of the fire into the infirmary. He was an older, very scarred man, with a wooden leg and an actual hook for a hand.

"Let me take a look at the creature," the man said.

"Children, this is Professor Kettleburn," Madame Pomfrey told them. "He's the school's leading expert and instructor on magical creatures. You'll get a chance to learn with him if you wish starting in your third year."

"If I haven't retired by then," Kettleburn muttered, looking closely at Scabbers. He waved his wand and looked quite puzzled. "_Homenum Revelio._" He then gasped suddenly. "Poppy, please get the Headmaster here immediately. This is an Animagus."

The nurse's eyes widened in shock. "Impossible!" She turned to the fire again and called out, "Headmaster, please answer."

After only a few seconds, what appeared to be Professor Dumbledore's head seemed to be _in _the fire.

Harry almost moved forward to do something before realizing that it was probably quite safe - they'd hardly be using it otherwise.

"Is he okay?" He asked Neville quietly.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, Harry. Floo fire can't hurt you."

"What seems to the problem?" Dumbledore's flaming head asked.

"Potential emergency," Pomfrey told him. "Please come through."

"At once," the Headmaster replied and then came through the fire in much the same way as Kettleburn had. He looked around the room and blinked. "My word, there are quite a few of us here, aren't there?"

Kettleburn grunted, not having moved his eyes from the rat. "Albus, this here rat is an Animagus."

"But it's my pet!" Ron said with alarm.

Dumbledore moved quickly over to the rat and pulled out his own wand. After a few brief silent waves, he looked very surprised and turned to the students. "Children, I must ask you to return to your rooms. We will likely need to contact the Ministry about this."

"I don't get it," Ron whined in what Harry considered quite an overdramatic manner. "How can Scabbers be an Animagus? He's been with the family for years."

"You know," Hermione said slowly. "If Scabbers was really a hidden man or woman in disguise, don't you think Ron has the right to know? After all, the rat has been sleeping in his and Percy's beds for years, right?"

Dumbledore's face darkened and he looked almost angry. "Perhaps you are right, Miss Granger. But if there is a security concern, I would not wish to risk anything in regards to the safety of students. Please, all of you, stand back so I can prepare a bit of protection."

Harry quickly moved back to the nearest wall, and Neville and Parvati followed right after. Hermione joined them after surreptitiously pulling out her wand.

"You too, Mister Weasley," Pomfrey said crossly. "Do as the Headmaster requests."

Ron winced. "Ah, right, sorry." He moved back with the other Gryffindors.

"Silvanus, please place the rat on the floor and step back," instructed Dumbledore. "But keep your wand at the ready."

Kettleburn nodded and complied, slowly placing the rat's cage on the floor and then backed away with his wand pointed at Scabbers.

Dumbledore mumbled some words and waved his wand several times. Instantly a bright circle burst into light around the rat, then faded as though nothing was there. After another minute or so of quick silent spellwork, the Headmaster lowered his wand and moved to stand between the rat and the students.

"Silvanus, if you will, the _Homorphus _charm."

Harry peered forward around the Headmaster's robes to watch. The rat shuddered and then suddenly grew into the shape of a short, portly man, in very ratty clothes.

Pomfrey gasped. "It cannot be!"

"_Stupefy_," Dumbledore said quickly and the man collapsed onto the floor. "Well, it seems we will need to contact the Ministry after all." He looked back at Ron and the others. "I am afraid, Mister Weasley, that your pet rat was someone we will need to question extensively. Do not worry, we will be sure to explain everything as much as permitted. But for now, I think it best that you all return to Gryffindor Tower."

"But - " Ron started to say.

"No, no," Dumbledore interrupted him. "You do not need to speak with whoever this might be. If we need your help, Mister Weasley, I will let you know. Understood?"

Ron nodded, but looked a bit grumpy.

As they walked back to the Tower, each one guessing randomly who the man might be, Neville suddenly gasped.

"Oh no! I left Trevor back there!"

Ron laughed and patted Neville on the back. "No worries, Nev. I rather think he'll be okay. You can get him back later."

Neville nodded with a frown.

"You must feel... _terribly violated_," Hermione said to Ron archly. "I am quite sorry."

"Eh?" Ron looked at her in confusion. "Oh, yes, I see. You're right, I feel awful."

Parvati sighed and made a huffing sound. "You two are _just plain_ awful."

* * *

Soon after, a great many things suddenly happened all at once, mostly explained to them by McGonagall. It appeared that the man was actually someone named Peter Pettigrew, who had been a friend of Harry's parents, and had been assumed dead, murdered by another of James and Lily's friends. The man, named Sirius Black, had been thrown in the Wizarding prison Azkaban but was now being held in a holding cell for a retrial.

"I _cannot believe_ this nonsense," Hermione spat, throwing down a copy of the daily newspaper. "The Ministry is talking about trying Sirius for attempted murder instead of just murder. Can't they see Pettigrew was the real killer?"

"Why would you say that?" Harry asked her. "I mean, Professor McGonagall told us that it was likely Pettigrew escaped after Sirius cursed him, and was driven mad enough afterwards to hide out as a rat for years. Hardly the actions of a sane fellow."

Ron shuddered. "Still gives me the creeps, though."

Hermione gave him an odd look. "Is that so?"

The redhead looked right back at her. "I'd say it is."

Harry sighed. It appeared that his friends were still completely and utterly out of their minds, as per usual. He wondered if his other crazy friend Malfoy had any insights on this Pettigrew business, or if he was still too angry at Ron to bother. So Harry decided to intercept Draco later that day after one of their classes.

When Malfoy spotted Harry by himself, he looked a bit surprised. "Potter, where are your little annoyances?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know, you're not exactly the friendliest sort either."

Malfoy chuckled a bit and grinned. "You've got me there, Potter. Did you want something?"

"Yeah, you know about this stuff with Sirius Black and Pettigrew?" Harry realized he had meant to bring a copy of the newspaper with him for reference but had forgotten. "Did you hear about it?"

"How could I avoid it?" Malfoy made a face. "It's clear what happened, of course. Black went mad after the Dark Lord killed... well, you know."

"My parents?" Harry asked, knowing the answer. "It's okay, you can talk about them. Just don't insult them or anything."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough. So Black was friends with them, and their deaths drove him insane. He went after Pettigrew, because the little rat clearly betrayed the Potters. Once he realized Pettigrew had him beat, he gave up and let the Aurors arrest him."

"That's almost what Hermione said," revealed Harry, a bit surprised they agreed on anything. "But it's hard to believe that. It's so... complicated."

Malfoy huffed. "Well, I suppose Granger is likely the smartest in the year. If hopelessly naive. You should listen to her. And me, of course."

Harry laughed. "Right. Did you hear about me getting on the Quidditch team?"

"Obviously," grunted Malfoy. "I saw the broom as well. Just try not to embarrass the Slytherin team _too _much if you can help it. Unfortunately Snape won't let me on the team, otherwise you'd have some actual competition."

"Well, perhaps if you were very polite, he might let you," Harry told him with a grin. "But didn't I outrace you once already?"

Malfoy made a rude gesture. "Conversation over, Potter. If I want to be insulted, I'll talk to Professor Snape."

"Fine, fine," laughed Harry. "Later, then."

And for a little while, nothing particularly out of the ordinary occurred. Other than it being a magical school for wizards with a game played on brooms, of course.

* * *

The night before Halloween, Harry awoke suddenly at the stroke of midnight at the sound of a loud crash of thunder. Through the window, a cascade of odd colors flashed and undulated and then thunder sounded again, almost at a subvocal level. Harry imagined he could almost feel the sound in his bones. He sat up, grabbing his glasses, and peered out the window to see a shockingly violent storm, clouds rolling and electric charges shuddering through the sky over Hogwarts - but no rain. And then the sound of wind grew and grew, a whistling sound that rumbled just at the edges of his hearing, and then it stopped. Without warning, the storm clouds began to collapse and disappear, and within a minute, the sky was clear and beautiful.

It seemed like an unnatural sort of storm, but then again, this _was_ Hogwarts, and Harry supposed that perhaps it was actually normal weather for a magical school. He turned to try to go back to sleep, his nerves still a bit twinged from waking up so suddenly. The other boys seemed not to have even noticed the thunder at all, except possibly for Neville, who was writing something on a piece of paper.

Harry wondered how Neville could see what he was even doing in the minimal light.

Neville looked over at Harry and smiled. "Okay there, Harry? You have your glasses on. Can't sleep?"

"The thunder woke me up," answered Harry in a soft voice as he adjusted his frames. "Why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep," Neville replied with a shrug. "But sometimes I like to write down my thoughts of the day, but I seem to have forgotten to bring a diary from home. So it's been random pieces of parchment until Gran owls it over."

"That's a nice idea," admitted Harry. "I guess I just write so much already for homework already, I'm not really in the mood to do it again for myself."

Neville nodded in understanding. "Perfectly logical, Harry. How's the work been so far for you? Pretty easy? Potions aside, of course."

"Actually Potions hasn't been so bad, although I know Snape doesn't like you - on the other hand, he utterly _hates_ Ron and Hermione, after that first day. Well, you remember that, obviously. Those two and Draco getting into a shouting match with Snape." Harry shook his head and smiled sadly. "The three idiots just can't avoid getting into trouble."

"Hmm," Neville said, looking over at Ron's sleeping form with a discerning eye. "I see what you mean. What about Quidditch? Looking forward to the game?"

"I'm a bit nervous," Harry said slowly. "Oliver and Professor McGonagall seem to be expecting an awful lot from me, but I've never even played a full game before. Only practice so far."

Neville grinned. "Harry, you're the best flyer in the school, you just don't realize it yet. You'll kick Slytherin's arse, trust me. And that's coming from the _worst_ flyer in school."

Harry laughed a bit too loudly, then put his hand over his mouth to avoid waking anyone else up. He yawned suddenly, feeling a bit tired. "Nice talking to you Neville, but I think I'd better go back to sleep."

"Right," Neville nodded. "See you in the morning."

* * *

"Let's go, Potter!"

"Wha...?" Harry fumbled for his glasses to see who had woken him up. Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain, was standing near his bed impatiently tapping his foot.

"Oliver, what time is it?" Harry asked, looking outside to see a still fairly dark sky.

"I dunno, like five thirty or something," Wood said in a hurry. "I've been working for hours to write down some notes. Just get dressed, get your gear, and meet us out on the field in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Harry gasped in alarm.

"I've already woken the twins and the girls," Oliver told him. "So stop being lazy and get a move on!" With that, the captain left the dorm leaving a still exhausted Harry behind.

"Just two more minutes, Mum," Ron mumbled into his pillow.

Harry sighed and pulled himself out of bed. He still wanted to win the game against Slytherin after all.

Out on the field, Harry was glad to see that the others (excepting Wood, of course) were just as knackered. One of the twins, either Fred or George, Harry wasn't sure which, was still basically asleep on his feet.

"Right!" Oliver shouted, slamming his hand on a large book. "I've come up with a few ingenious maneuvers for our upcoming match." He quickly conjured a large board and began sketching several complicated diagrams, explaining everything in rapid fire speech as he went. Finally he turned back to the team, and asked, "Everyone got it?"

"No," one of the twins said and yawned.

"I did," the other one said. "But I suppose Fred must've left his half of the giant brain we share back in the Tower."

Fred punched his brother on the shoulder, who only laughed loudly (although he did wince a bit).

"It's very complicated, Oliver," Alicia Spinnet said slowly. "I mean, I get... most of it, and I will admit, it's quite clever. I've never seen anything like that before."

"I know!" Oliver grinned and clenched his fist. "Now let's get into the air and get this routine down."

It took nearly three hours, but the team finally managed to complete the Wood's brilliant but insanely convoluted plan. Harry was barely able to move, let alone continue flying, but he could admit that it all seemed like it'd work well indeed.

"We'll have to go through it a few more times this week," Oliver told them with a big grin. "It isn't quite seamless enough."

Everyone groaned.

Oliver scowled at them. "Whinge all you want, but just picture the looks on those bloody Slytherins' faces!"

Groans of mild agreement met this pronouncement.

"Great," Oliver clapped his hands loudly. "Now go eat breakfast. Don't want to lose strength, eh?"

Harry accidentally missed his mouth several times during breakfast due to his twitching muscles, but soon he felt well enough to appreciate the delicious smells of baking pumpkin and spiced cider that wafted through the halls. Ron and Hermione seemed a bit on edge, although with them, who could say if it was truly unusual behavior?

The first class of the day was Charms, and Professor Flitwick told them all with a joyful voice that he thought they might be able to handle a bit of object flying.

Harry ended up paired with Seamus Finnegan, who winked at him.

"Bet yeh're glad to have some time away from nutto one and nutto two, am I right?" he asked with a sly grin.

"You might say that," Harry said with a grin of his own. "Just don't you show off too."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Harry," Seamus told him. "I'm just as rubbish as you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That might be taking it a bit too far."

Flitwick went over the instructions for the Levitation Charm, being quite clear about the pronunciation and wand movements. "Now get to it!" He said with a big smile.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" Ron shouted out, and his feather jumped into the air at the perfect position, steady as a mountain.

Hermione, who was paired with him, scowled and then waved her wand, causing her feather to jump up - although she hadn't actually said anything. They looked at the Professor a bit expectantly.

Flitwick frowned. "I hope you aren't expecting any points for such an ostentatious lack of discipline," he chided them. "And Miss Granger, might I suggest you ensure you can cast the spell first before attempting it silently?"

Ron ducked his head and Hermione's face turned scarlet.

Feeling a bit frustrated at his so-called friends always having it so easy, Harry tried the spell himself. "_Wingardium Leviosa_!" But nothing happened.

"Oh, Harry, your pronunciation isn't quite right," Hermione told him.

Ron looked over. "And your wand should be doing more of a swish and flick, not a swish and tap."

"Fine!" Harry said in a seething tone. He turned to look at his feather. Seamus had just accidentally set fire to his feather, so Harry had it put it out. It seemed like he was always being the responsible one.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" Harry yelled, and his feather jumped up and embedded itself in the ceiling.

Flitwick walked around and chuckled mildly. "An excellent effort, Mister Potter. Just a bit too much force, that's all. You'll get it soon enough, I'm sure. I think five points for coming quite close."

Harry smiled at this unexpected bounty of points.

Ron and Hermione didn't seem to like this particularly. But while Hermione seemed content to stay silent on it, Ron said, "Professor, why didn't we get points?"

"Because, Mister Weasley, there is no place for points-grubbing in my classroom." Flitwick gave the two a fierce look. "Are we clear?"

After the class ended, Harry still felt quite annoyed at the way Ron and Hermione had been behaving and didn't feel like talking to them.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron asked in concern.

Hermione bit her lip in worry. "Is it about the Levitation Charm? I'm sure you'll get it."

But before Harry could yell something rude in response, Parvati beat him to it.

"You two have been thoughtless the entire class!" she shouted at them. "To everyone, but _especially _to poor Harry, who's the only one who can stand you, if you've been keeping track."

Ron scowled at her. "You stay out of this, Parvati! It's none of your business."

"Oh, I think it is," the darkskinned girl said with a sort of righteous fury. Lavender tugged on her arm. "No, let me talk, Lavender. Everyone likes Harry, have you realized that?"

"They do?" Harry asked, quite surprised.

"And they think he's quite nice for letting you get away with your mad nonsense," Parvati continued. "So perhaps you should start thinking about his feelings for a change, and not just how you can be perfect at yet another bloody spell."

Ron frowned and looked a bit embarrassed.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said sadly. "I wasn't trying to humiliate you or anything. I just want you to do well."

Harry sighed heavily. "Yeah, yeah. I know, I know. Just... try, okay? That's all I ask."

As they all sat around for lunch, Parvati seemed to make it a point to ignore Ron and Hermione, although Harry couldn't exactly blame her. And then there was a sudden commotion, so Harry turned to see poor Professor Quirrell racing into the Hall, looking white as a ghost.

"Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know." He then collapsed in a dead faint.

The students began to clamor around in panic, but Professor Dumbledore made a loud banging sound from his wand. "Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

They began to quickly line up, and then Ron looked over at Hermione with an odd look. "Is something weird going on?"

"Other than a troll?" Harry asked. "I mean, I assume that's weird enough already, although I suppose I don't actually know if it's normal for Hogwarts."

Hermione snorted. "I think you'd be surprised. But..." Then she looked around and gasped. "Neville! He's missing!"

"What do you mean, missing?" Harry checked the crowd of Gryffindors over a few times, but couldn't spot the often nervous Neville. "Are you sure he isn't somewhere ahead of us?"

"I think he was with us after Charms," Ron said slowly.

"Oh, he was," Hermione agreed. "But where could he be? We should go find him."

"Or..." Harry said slowly, wondering how his friends could be so smart yet so stupid. "Maybe we could tell Percy or a Professor?"

Ron scowled. "Fine, then. Oi, Percy!" He shouted above the din, getting his older brother's attention, who hurried over.

"Ronald, what is it? You need to get to your rooms."

"Neville Longbottom is missing!" Hermione said quickly.

Percy paled. "Are you quite sure? He's not somewhere in the crowd."

"Is there some way you can check where he is?" asked Harry.

After a moment of thought, Percy blinked rapidly and nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Well thought out, Mister Potter. I have just the spell." He pulled out his wand and placed it on his palm. "_Point Me _Neville Longbottom." The wand twirled around a bit, before pointing quite definitely back in the direction of the Hall. "Oh dear," Percy said worriedly. "I had better inform the Professors about this. You three get to the Tower _immediately_. I'll take care of it." He then raced off.

"Great," Harry said in relief. "So that takes care of that."

"I don't know," Hermione frowned. "What if he can't find Neville in time?"

"You're right!" Ron smacked his fist on his palm. "We've gotta find him before the troll does!"

"What?" yelped Harry. "Are you two crazy?" Then he rolled his eyes. "What am I saying? Of course you are."

"No need to be rude, Harry," Hermione told him with a sniff. "We just want to be sure Neville is safe. I don't plan to be in any danger, do you Ron?"

"Nope!" Ron said with a smile and pulled out his wand. "Now let's go get Neville."

The two raced off, and the Harry realized that everyone else had already left for their dormitories. So he had a choice - either go by himself to the Tower and risk the troll finding him, or follow his crazy genius friends on their quest to find and rescue Neville Longbottom, a friendly guy that was neither crazy nor a genius. Well, put that way, Harry supposed he didn't have much of a choice.

As Harry followed after Ron and Hermione, he wondered for a brief moment how they could possibly know where Neville might be. And then he recalled the spell Percy had used.

"Wait, wait a sec!" He called out. The two other Gryffindors halted suddenly and looked back at him. "Maybe we should use that locating spell Percy cast before we just run randomly - or maybe right into the troll."

"The Four-Point spell," Hermione asked. "Hmm, that's not a bad idea, Harry." She placed her wand on her palm. "_Point Me _Neville Longbottom." The wand twitched and pointed slightly to the right. "Oh dear," she said in concern. "I believe that's the direction of the lavatories near the Charms room."

"But that's nowhere near the dungeons!" Harry protested, but it was no avail, as Ron and Hermione had began to run off again. "How'd you even figure that he was near the lavatory?" Harry grumbled to himself as he managed to run a bit faster to catch up.

As they approached the lavatories in question, a terrible smell wafted towards them and Harry gagged. "What is that?" he asked, pulling his robes around his nose. "Is that the troll?"

Hermione frowned and held her wand aloft. "It's almost _too_ unpleasant, isn't it?"

"Wits about you, Harry," Ron said quickly, brandishing his own wand. "Try not to breath it in too much."

Harry, who could still smell the stench through the robes, glared back. "Why don't you use those genius brains of yours and come up with a way to block the smell?"

"Oh, good idea!" Hermione said with a nod. "The Bubble-Head Charm, of course." She waved her wand and suddenly the smell was gone. "There you are."

"Hmm, I forget how to cast that one," Ron grumbled, scratching his head with his wand.

Hermione rolled her eyes but repeated the spell for him.

"All right, let's be as quiet as possible," advised Hermione. "And if the trolls happens to still be around, we'll distract it and you can run for help."

"Me?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Unless you'd rather fight a troll, Harry?" Hermione gave him a sly smile.

"Fine, fine," grumbled Harry in agreement.

But they spotted the troll right away, as it was laying on the floor near the lavatory. With its head missing.

"That's... that's not normal, right?" Harry felt a bit nauseous at just the sight of the decapitated creature, even with the charm holding awful smells at bay.

"No, it's not, Harry," Ron chuckled, although he seemed a bit confused as well. "I rather think the troll needed his head. Which is right over there, by the way." He pointed across the hall where the troll's ugly face had rolled, a look of surprise on its face. "But what happened? Who killed it?"

"Trolls aren't easy to damage," Hermione told them. "Highly resistant to spells, frightfully strong, and so on."

"Maybe a Professor took care of it," Harry reasoned. "Or someone like Kettleburn; he's an expert, right?"

"Hmph." Hermione didn't look convinced. "Then why leave it here for anyone to stumble across?"

"They did expect students to be safely in the rooms," Harry pointed out to her. "So let's quickly look for Neville and head back. I'd expect Percy or someone else has found him by now."

Hermione cast the _Point Me_ spell again, but the direction was now back in the direction of the Tower. "Huh." She looked up in annoyance. "Perhaps he did make it back okay."

The sound of someone running towards them caused Ron and Hermione to whirl about suddenly, wands at the ready. Normally Harry wouldn't think much of a first year's ability to fend off someone, but these two might pull it off.

A boy in Hufflepuff robes ran around the corner, looking to be about two or three years older than them - he was actually slightly taller than Ron, who was freakishly tall already. He had his own wand out and seemed very confused to see them.

"Cedric Diggory?" Hermione asked in surprise.

"Er, yes," the older boy said. "That's right, actually. And you're Hermione Granger, true?" He smiled brightly at her. "I've heard about you and the Weasley kid - two smartest kids in the first year, right?"

Hermione blushed at this and nodded, while Ron looked simultaneously annoyed and pleased.

"Did you do that to the troll?" Cedric asked in an awed tone.

Harry shook his head. "No, it was like that when we got here. We were just looking for Neville Longbottom, he's a first year like us."

Cedric frowned and nodded. "Yes, right. I overheard one of the prefects mentioning something about a missing Gryffindor boy, and then I saw you three running through the halls. Didn't really have time to alert anyone." He peered at the troll's head and whistled. "Well, whoever killed this thing might be back any moment, so I suggest we get out of here. It it was a Professor, they'd give you a detention for still being here, and it's someone else..."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Harry. It was the first reasonable thing he had heard all day. "What year are you in?" he asked Cedric as they hurried away.

"Third," the Hufflepuff replied and then grinned. "I'm looking forward to the game against Slytherin. I wish I could play, but I'm only on the Reserves."

"Maybe next year?" Hermione asked with a smile.

Cedric shook his head. "Nah, couldn't happen. Gemma Puffett - she's the current Seeker - is only a sixth year, so unless she quits, the team rule is to let members stay on until they graduate."

Ron grimaced. "That seems stupid. What if you have someone better who's younger?"

"Hufflepuff team tradition," Cedric answered with a shrug. "Just the way it goes. Gemma's decent, but I doubt she stands a chance against any of the other Seekers, you included, Harry, from the rumors I've heard."

"What rumors?" asked Harry curiously. Oliver Wood had been quite paranoid about letting anyone watch their practices.

Cedric laughed a bit. "Oh, you had better go," he said suddenly, as they were close to the Gryffindor Tower. "My room is in the other direction."

Hermione looked up at Cedric with a bit of worry in her eyes. "Are you sure you'll be okay getting back?"

"Of course!" Cedric said brightly. "After all, the troll's dead, right? So there's nothing else to worry about."

"I guess," Ron replied slowly, and then Cedric nodded his goodbye and ran off.

"Wait!" Hermione gasped. "What about whoever killed the troll?"

A loud voice startled her, and she almost cast a spell in reply.

"What are you three still doing out here?" It was Percy, looking quite furious. "I told you to get in the dorms."

"We're practically there," Ron scoffed at his older brother. "We just wanted to wait for Neville."

"Neville Longbottom is the Tower, as you'd know if you had been waiting there."

"Really?" Hermione frowned. "But what about the _Point Me _spell you cast?"

Percy looked at her disapprovingly. "He just got bustled up with the Hufflepuffs, that's all. I escorted him back here, and now you should come with me immediately before I take any points off." He looked at Harry and sighed. "Mister Potter, you really shouldn't let these two drag you all over the place, it isn't safe." Percy shook his head sadly. "And here I thought Ron might be a responsible one for a change, instead of taking after the Twins."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Sure, Percy. I'll be responsible from now on."

"I'm sorry," Harry quickly said to Percy. "Won't happen again."

Percy looked at him carefully. "I hope so, Harry. I really do." Then he smiled. "Well, the good news is that I believe the Professors found the troll. Which means you'll have a chance to finally trounce the Slytherins, eh?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Fanatical love of Quidditch was one thing every wizard and witch seemed to have in common, crazy or not. It was sort of comforting. "You've got it, Percy. In fact," he whispered so Ron and Hermione couldn't overhear. "Oliver has a really great plan that will blow everyone away. Just don't tell anyone."

Percy raised an eyebrow and looked quite intrigued. "I won't, Harry. Wood's an excellent Keeper, so I hope he manages to do also well as a Captain."

"Other than waking us up too early for practices, no real complaints," Harry told him with a grin. "I can't wait for the game."

* * *

There were only a few short days until the game against Slytherin, and Harry's days were filled with so much practice and homework he barely had time to think. Hermione's worries about Cedric's safety had been allayed by him showing up as normal the next morning, sending over a wave and a wink that made her blush and Ron mutter under his breath. As for the troll, Professor Dumbledore had merely said that the staff had found and disposed of the smelly creature, and there was nothing further to be concerned about.

Each Quidditch practice had them going over and over Oliver's carefully determined plays, and it actually seemed like they might pull it off. Oliver was quite happy at their progress, but he still managed to come up with seventeen contingency plans, of which Harry could only consistently remember two.

Finally the day of the big game against Slytherin had arrived, and the captain was literally vibrating in anticipation as they went over their plans at the last minute.

"This is it, boys and girls," he said excitedly. "We are not only going to win - that much is obvious - we are going to _dominate them_."

"Crush them!" Fred called out.

"Smash them!" George put in.

Katie Bell looked a bit nervous and took a deep breath in and out. "I know we've practiced a lot, but I'm not sure we can pull this off."

Oliver Wood's face became instantly grave and quite serious. "Team, I have played more than a few Quidditch games over the years, and watched countless more. And I can tell you that this group here, this raw talent and skill in this room - well, let's just say that I doubt any team will manage to come close in the next fifty years. The only thing that can stop us is the interference of monsters or demon gods from the pits of Hell. And in that case, we'll probably just tie."

The twins burst into laughter.

"That was truly and utterly the greatest speech you've ever given," Fred said, waving tears of laughter from his eyes. "It's almost like you've developed a sense of humor. And I don't think you've repeated a single thing from last year's speech!"

An eerie light glinted in Oliver's eyes. "We have you two nutjobs, the Beaters that share a brain dedicated to suffering."

"Ha!" George grinned. "I like that."

"And our three _superb_ chasers, with such grace and speed, they might as well be descended from a mighty Phoenix."

The girls all preened at the praise, and Harry wondered what Wood might possibly say about him, someone that had never even played a single game.

"And of course," Oliver said slowly, turning to face the youngest member of the team. "The _greatest Seeker in wizarding History_."

Harry's jaw dropped in shock.

"Bloody hell, Ollie," Fred said. "Put a little more pressure on him, while you're at it."

"Oh, I'll be proven right soon enough," Wood said dismissively. "And I suppose I'm a decent Keeper. But if you lot do your jobs, I won't have to do a thing other than sit and watch."

"Um..." Harry was suddenly very nervous.

"Remember, Harry," Oliver told him. "The Snitch is worth 150 points, so keep it at bay until we've hit twenty goals. By my calculations, that should keep us comfortably in the lead even if something goes wrong with the next game."

Harry nodded, gripping his broom tightly. "Right. And you'll signal too?"

Oliver grinned widely. "Naturally. Now let's go out there and embarrass some Slytherins!"

They walked out to the pitch to the sound of loud cheers. Harry felt his knees shake a bit and gripped his broom a bit tighter. Oliver seemed to have noticed and moved close to him.

"Harry, I know you're nervous," he said softly, so the others couldn't hear. "But just remember this: that feeling of freedom while you're in the air. The way the wind calls to you and how the ground is a distant memory. Sure, it's Quidditch - but when you're as good as us, you don't need to be nervous."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded, willing the memories to wash over him, relaxing and comforting him. After a moment of contemplation, he opened his eyes and smiled. He was ready.

As Madame Hooch watched warily, a supremely confident Wood stood next to Marcus Flint, the brutish captain of the Slytherin team. "All right then," she said to all of them. "I want a good, clean game. All of you!" With a glance at the two captains again, as if to reassure herself they weren't about to start brawling, she nodded and pulled out a silver whistle. "Mount your brooms!"

Harry eased onto his broom, hardly able to wait a moment longer.

Madame Hooch blew a sharp, loud blast from her whistle and everyone ascended instantly. Each of the Gryffindors immediately fell into their planned formations. Fred and George each darted to opposite sides, tracking down the two Bludgers. Alicia and Angelina flew directly at two of the Slytherin Chasers, each of whom swerved aside instinctively.

"An early aggressive maneuver from the Gryffindor!" The loud voice of Lee Jordan, a friend of the twins, boomed out magically loud through the air. "And Katie immediately has the Quaffle, didn't even see her grab it - and she's already scored! I've never seen such speed. And... wait... Fred or George Weasley just sent one of the Bludgers back at the other twin, can't figure out which, and the other one is returning the favor!"

Harry grinned. He knew what was coming, but he kept an eye out for the Snitch and watched the Slytherin Seeker out of the corner of his vision.

"Wait!" Jordan yelled. "The twins are... passing the Bludgers back and forth. Ooh, and Pucey gets in the way, that's gotta hurt. The Bludger's gone off a bit, but Weasley - one of them - has got it back. What are they even planning? And wait, Alicia and Katie suddenly pair off in some sort of spiral, knocking Baddock nearly off his broom - bet he didn't see that one coming! Oh, and Angelina Johnson, beautiful girl, has the Quaffle - where did she get it? I can't even keep track."

It only got worse from there, as the Chasers scored goal after goal. The Slytherins began to resort to obvious fouls - Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, even tried to knock Harry off his broom, but Harry turned sharply to avoid him. And then, without warning, his broom suddenly lurched and Harry almost lost his grip. Then it happened again, and again, like the broom was trying to throw him off.

Harry began to panic, grabbing the broom as tightly as possible. He looked around for any help, but everyone seemed too busy - except Wood, who looked over and then suddenly his wand was out. Harry's broom stopped shaking, and he breathed a sigh of relief, assuming Wood had cast some sort of stability spell. But he began to feel a bizarre heat at his back, and Harry turned to see that the Quidditch stands were currently on fire.

Oh. Well, he hadn't expected that.

Harry then saw Wood gesturing at him vehemently, and Harry realized - the signal! He zoomed about, looking for the Snitch - he had unfortunately lost track during the little incident. But a glint of gold that seemed immediately so obvious, Harry wondered how how he had missed it. After brushing past several other players, it was a simple matter to grab the little darting thing out of the air.

He looked back at the stands, which looked to have been extinguished, albeit now quite blackened and smoky. What had happened?

Almost immediately after landing, Professor McGonagall appeared and brought him and Wood to the Headmaster's office, where Snape and Madame Hooch were already waiting. Harry couldn't tell if she was furious, happy, or both.

"So, Harry?" Professor Dumbledore looked over his glasses at him. "What precisely happened out there?"

"I'm not sure," admitted Harry. "My broom started going out of control - almost knocked me off. Then I saw Oliver pull out his wand, I think to stabilize it, and then I realized the stands were on fire."

Snape frowned deeply. "Your so-called captain was the one that raised that fire."

"What?" Harry turned to Oliver in shock. "Is that true?"

"So what if it is?" Wood asked indignantly. "I saw that Harry's broom was being hexed by someone, and that someone had to be in the stands. Someone that was trying to kill him! There were too many people to target just one person, so I had to distract everyone."

"Ridiculous," scoffed Snape. "You could have killed everyone there with such incompetence. I think expulsion is in order at the very least - and certainly an overturning of the Quidditch victory."

"You can't be serious!" Wood's eyes widened in alarm, and he turned to McGonagall. "You can't punish me for trying to save Harry! And besides, there's nothing in the rules against setting fire to the stands."

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and looked over at Madame Hooch. "Rolanda, is that true?"

"Well..." Madame Hooch winced slightly. "Technically he's right. There was a specific instance..."

"Caerphilly versus Lancashire, 1842," Wood interrupted.

"Yes, that's right," Hooch said, giving him an annoyed look. "One of the audience members in support of Lancashire threw a hex at the Caerphilly Keeper. Some of the others on the team retaliated and... well, riots aside, it was determined that outside interference would not affect the game. It's supposed to be the referee's job to ensure that sort of thing."

"You cannot possibly be serious!" Snape snarled. "This little idiot set the Quidditch stands on fire, and you won't even punish the brat. I never figured you to value victory over human life, Minerva."

McGonagall glared at the Potions professor. "I assure you, he will be punished. But under the circumstances, if he was really trying to save Harry's life... perhaps some leniency may be in order." She turned to the Headmaster. "Albus, what do you think?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Well now, do we have any proof that Mister Potter's broom was being attacked?"

"Isn't there some way you can check it magically?" Harry asked desperately. "I'm sure you'd find a problem then."

The Headmaster nodded and smiled. "Yes, indeed we can do that, if you would be willing to let us borrow it for a little while. Severus, do you concur?"

Snape curled his lip and looked unhappy. "I suppose that it is logical enough. But in the meantime, Mister Wood must be kept on probation and his wand held - for safety, of course."

Dumbledore looked over at the Gryffindor Head of House. "Minerva?"

After a moment of looking like she thinking about it, McGonagall nodded. "Very well. Mister Potter, you can return to Gryffindor. But keep your broom here."

"Right, of course," agreed Harry easily with a nod. He was just glad Oliver would get a chance for mercy. "And what should I tell the others about the game?"

McGonagall smirked and looked over at Snape, who snorted and turned to the wall. "I think," she said. "You can tell them Gryffindor took the day."

When Harry arrived at the Gryffindor common room, it seemed as if the entire house was there, all looking at him as he came through the portrait.

"So, Harry?" Fred walked over. "What happened?" He asked this softly enough that others couldn't overhear.

Harry said, "Oliver set the stands on fire on accident, because he was trying to save my life."

"What?" Fred almost shouted this, but then composed himself. "I noticed the fire too, but I didn't realize he had done it - you say he was doing it save you?"

George and the Chaser girls pushed their way through the crowd to come near enough to hear the conversation.

"What did you tell him?" Katie Bell asked.

"That Ollie apparently used the fire to save Harry's life," Fred explained to the team. "But I'm not sure why he was in danger in the first place."

"Something was wrong with my broom," said Harry quickly. "It seemed to be trying to throw me off. Oliver saw but didn't know who was doing it, so he tried to create some sort of distraction."

George chuckled. "He did at that. But.." He frowned and looked serious, an odd look on him. "Is he expelled? Going to Azkaban for it? Snape must want to murder him."

"I turned in my broom so they can check it for proof of hexing." Harry sighed. "And he has to give up his wand while they look into it. But hopefully it'll turn out okay for him."

"And are they going to even try to figure out who attacked you?" Angelina Johnson demanded.

Harry blinked and realized he didn't know the answer. "I guess once they know about the broom, they can investigate."

"I bet it was Snape," Fred said darkly. "Never did get why Dumbledore trusts him."

"I don't think so." Harry shook his head. "If it was Ron or Hermione, who he hates, then maybe... but he was friends with my Mum. I wouldn't say he _likes_ me, but he doesn't want me to die, I'm sure."

"Well, if all that's settled," Alicia Spinnet leaned in close. "Did we still win? You caught the Snitch when the score was 160 points to nothing."

"Was it that much?" Harry asked. "Although I think Oliver wanted me to get the Snitch at two hundred. But he made the signal; probably because of the fire."

Fred snorted. "Yes, undoubtedly."

"Indubitably," George added.

"But..." Harry held their attention for a moment and then grinned. "We still won."

Fred whooped and someone called out from the crowd, "did we win?"

"We won!" Fred shouted and the room burst into cheers and applause.

Before he realized it, Harry had a cup of pumpkin juice pushed into one hand and he was surrounded by people shaking the other one. After nodding politely to too many people, Harry moved to stand near the other first years.

"You were utterly amazing out there!" Parvati told him with a huge smile. "You all were, really. Except for the fire - or I should say, even with the fire."

"Utterly beautiful," Seamus enthused and then took a big gulp of a bottle of something.

"Was anyone hurt?" Harry asked in concern.

"I don't think so," Parvati said with a shrug. "It was more scary and shocking - nobody was paying attention for a few minutes. Although I wasn't sitting near where the fire was, so it's hard to say."

Harry looked around and realized that there seemed to be some people missing.

"Where are Ron and Hermione? I don't see them anywhere."

Parvati scowled. "Oh, who cares? Probably off doing stupid nonsense, as per usual. You really need to stop being friends with those two."

"But..." Harry trailed off and then took a deep breath. "I can't... I can't do that."

"Why not?" Parvati demanded, getting close to him and looked directly in his face.

Harry mumbled something.

Parvati raised an eyebrow and leaned over. "Just whisper it," she said softly.

"They're my first friends," Harry whispered to her. "I can't just stop being friends with them."

Parvati looked at him with surprise. "That can't be right."

"Well, it is," Harry said sullenly. "And I don't feel like getting into it."

"Hmm," Parvati frowned. "I suppose it isn't fair for me to just say you can't have the friends you want. I just think they're bad for you, that's all. And they aren't your only friends. We all are! Like Neville over there!" She gestured to Neville. "Neville, come over here."

"Parvati, you don't have to..." Harry started to say.

"Neville Longbottom," Parvati interrupted loudly. "You should tell Harry what you thought of the game. I'm going to sneak a butterbeer before they're all gone." She walked over to Lavender and said something to her, then they both walked off.

"Um," Neville looked at the ground in an embarrassed manner. "Harry, you were good in the game."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Neville, you don't have to pretend."

Neville looked up at him and frowned. "I'm not pretending. It's just a little odd, being put on the spot like that. I like to think that all of us Gryffindors are friends."

"I guess," Harry said slowly. "I mean, that'd be nice, anyway." He sighed. "I just don't get why Ron and Hermione didn't even bother showing up. Did they think I was still mad? Because I'm starting to be."

"Oh!" Neville suddenly laughed. "No, that's not it at all. Actually, they told me that they wanted to talk to you privately about something when you got back. Even gave me directions to a secret room."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Really? A secret room?"

"It's Hogwarts, what do you expect?" Neville grinned and Harry laughed a bit. He was probably quite right.

Neville managed to sneak Harry out of the room without anyone noticing, and they walked through the halls, going up floors until they reached a corridor with many tapestries. Neville looked at each one before finally stopping at a bizarre one of a wizard in a ballet outfit near a bunch of trolls. He nodded and turned to Harry with a smile.

"This is the one," Neville said quietly. "Now I have to walk back and forth three times and the hidden door should appear."

"Kinda complicated." Harry looked at the tapestry and the wall around it. Seemed perfectly normal, for Hogwarts anyhow.

Neville walked forward and back once, twice, and then as he came back a third time, a door appeared suddenly on the wall.

Harry stepped back in surprise. "It worked!"

"Of course it worked, now let's go!" Neville opened the door and held it open.

Harry walked in to see a very odd surprise - Hermione and Ron were tied to chairs, seemingly unconscious. And then he heard the door slam shut.

"What's going on?" Harry whirled to see Neville with his wand out. "What happened to them?"

"Calm down, Harry," said Neville evenly. "I'm going to resuscitate them."

"Do what to them?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Wake them up," explained Neville and held up his wand. "_Rennervate_. _Rennervate_."

Instantly the two tied up Gryffindors came awake, looking about in bewilderment.

"What the..?" Ron looked over. "Harry? Neville? Are you here to rescue us? I was attacked by someone."

Hermione tilted her head and looked to be thinking about something. "Which one of us was it then?"

"We didn't attack you!" Harry said angrily. "What a thing to say!"

"Oh no, Harry, it was me," Neville said with a smile.

Harry turned to him in total shock. "But... why?"

Ron snarled. "What's your game, Longbottom?"

"I thought we all needed to just get in one room all of us together."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Neville waved his wand and two comfortable chairs appeared. He sat in one and gestured to Harry. "Please, Harry, have a seat." He looked over at the other two and gave them a small smile, an odd look in his eyes. "I think it's time we all had a little chat."


	3. Interlude 1: Seriously, Snape?

"_**Haven't you ever wondered just what it might take to change Snape's mind?"-Me to myself**_

* * *

**Far Too Many Time Travelers**  
**Interlude 1: Seriously, Snape?**

_**Flashback**_

Severus Snape had been teaching for years, and believed he had a very good sense of what to expect from each student as they were being Sorted. So far, he had almost never been wrong, and when he had, he convinced himself he was right anyhow. This year, he expected it to be quite the same; in fact, he had already predicted several merely based on who they were. Another Weasley? Obvious. Draco? Obvious. Simpering Muggle-borns? Also obvious. And then there was the little royal brat himself, Harry Potter.

Snape was not looking forward to this year.

As the students piled into the Great Hall, he took note of the particular reactions, which were always the same sort. Awe, fear, horror, braggadocio. To be expected. He spotted Potter immediately, of course, looking for all the world like a miniature version of his wretched father. Seeing Potter like that, it was quite easy to pretend that he wasn't remotely related to Lily at all. Palling around with Weasley (predictable), some Muggle-born girl (not quite as predictable, but a reasonable enough assumption), and... Draco? Perhaps, Snape considered, he wasn't getting the full picture from his seat at the table. Although he was usually quite good at this sort of thing-perhaps Lucius had asked Draco to insinuate himself into Potter's good graces? Troubling, if true. And unfortunately, highly plausible.

And Harry Potter, acting like a little conceited brat, while his little friends, Malfoy included, seemed terrified. Abnormally so, actually. But then the girl was Sorted into Gryffindor, and Snape realized she clearly didn't matter (he had entertained a brief parallel to Lily, then immediately discarded it, as this girl was obviously nothing like his childhood friend). Malfoy went into Slytherin, after the Hat acted... very oddly indeed. Snape had never heard the Hat make an audible sound as with the Granger girl.

Then it was Potter's turn, and Snape was surprised to find he wasn't certain what would happen. But then Potter was sent to Gryffindor, and Snape dismissed yet another first year into irrelevance. Not that the Headmaster would see it that way, but Albus wasn't always willing to see reason. And then, the most bizarre thing of all-the Hat had burst into laughter when Sorting the next Weasley monster. Snape was worried for a moment, then furious-surely the Weasley Twins had done something nefarious to the precious Hogwarts artifact. But what exactly, that was the question.

After that, Snape merely gave his usual sort of start of term speech to the Slytherin first years: all of whom were sufficiently impressed and cowed, with the possible exception of Draco, who acted almost as if he'd seen it all before. Snape realized he'd have to make sure Draco didn't think his position as a close family friend would make any difference at all-publicly.

But then things changed...

Potter had shocked him with his questions about Lily-for a moment Snape couldn't think of anything to say. And then the revelation that he had been living with that... _awful _woman. Well, Snape decided he would need to speak to Albus about that. It seemed that Harry might not be entirely corrupted by a posh upbringing, but who knew what lies Petunia had filled his head with? Snape would have to tread a bit carefully until he had a better idea about it. Perhaps Albus would allow some light Legilimency, merely to determine if Potter was dissembling about anything.

It was clear right away that Harry had some of the curiosity of Lily, although undoubtedly nothing close to her innate skill. Still, he was respectful-perhaps something that Lily's terrible sister had instilled into him. Perhaps the only possibly good idea she may have had.

Then came the utter nonsense from not only Potter's stupid Gryffindor friends, but Draco himself. It was obvious Draco felt entitled to special treatment from his family friend, and that disrespectful behavior was perfectly acceptable. Well, Snape wasn't about to let that go unpunished.

Later in the evening, he summoned Malfoy to his office.

"You have one minute to explain your abhorrent actions today," Severus told the boy.

Draco rolled his eyes quickly in a galling display of misbehavior, then pretended he hadn't done anything at all. "Sir, my father told me-"

"Your father?" Snape interrupted angrily. "Your father is not here, nor does he have any say in what I may do at Hogwarts. I run this House, and I run the Potions classroom. Acting up will not be tolerated, _especially_ not by Slytherin students. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," said Draco in a tight voice, but his eyes were glinted with unconcealed anger.

Snape was shocked at this-what the hell had Lucius been telling the boy? He decided that Draco's detention would be harsher than he had planned-the little brat needed to learn respect for his superiors.

* * *

The high staff met once a week for most of the year, with a few rare exceptions. There were monthly meetings with the entire faculty, but for now, Snape was glad that it was a small meeting. Easier to handle.

"Well then, I think the students have been settling in nicely," the Headmaster said with a smile. "Nothing too problematic."

"I wouldn't say that!" Snape snorted. "Need I remind you of the appalling behavior of those three incompetent fools in their first Potions lesson?"

"They weren't all from my House," snapped Minerva angrily.

Snape glared back. "I didn't say they were!"

"But how have they been besides that?" Albus asked in a sincere manner. If you weren't careful, you could be fooled by it.

Filius shook his head and looked a bit sad. "I must say, Miss Granger and Mister Weasley do not seem to have any respect for authority-or the curriculum. Mister Malfoy, though, although he seems in a bad mood much of the time, has not been particularly troublesome."

McGonagall frowned and sat back with her arms crossed. "Those two may be a bit... odd. But they are the best students in my class."

Sprout nodded. "I agree, actually."

"Ridiculous!" Snape said dismissively. "Don't allow yourself to get fooled by their little tricks. They are constantly flitting about, making things worse for better students."

"Students like Harry Potter?" Dumbledore inquired with an annoying twinkle in his eye.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Albus, we don't need to get into that one again. Obviously Potter wasn't pampered as I'd suspected he'd been, but..." He looked around the room-not everyone likely knew the specifics of Harry's upbringing, and Snape wasn't about to change that. "But it doesn't matter. Perhaps it's a reflection of how foolish his friends are acting, but Harry seems practically reasonable in comparison."

As he finished saying this, Snape realized he had accidentally said Harry's first name, and then Albus gave him an insufferably smug smile.

"If you ask me," Snape continued as though he hadn't misspoke. "Potter should stay away from those little malcontents and find more acceptable companions-that Patil girl, for example, or one of the Ravenclaws. Those tend to be a bit less empty-headed."

Flitwick laughed. "I do believe I'll take that as a compliment, Severus."

Snape merely grunted in response.

* * *

It was not particularly much of a surprise when Minerva decided to put Potter on her Quidditch team-Snape was primarily annoyed that he found it difficult to complain about it. And then Draco had the audacity to insist on getting on the Slytherin team, as if Snape was about to reward his disobedience and cheek.

"You'll put me on if you don't want Potter to demolish the team," Draco said with an arrogant air, seeming for all the world at that moment just like his father.

And then Snape came to the realization that although Quidditch victory was important, it wasn't _that_ important. In a way, by refusing Malfoy's little nonsense, Snape could claim his lack of favoritism, unlike McGonagall.

If she had put on either Weasley or Granger, he'd argue against that relentlessly, but with Harry... it wasn't worth it. Besides, there was a myriad of other concerns to be worried about. The Stone, of course, hidden through several layers of protections. Albus had confided to him that the traps needed to be just difficult enough to not seem a trap, but act more as delays than actual protection. The final trap would be the true snare, a difficult and unexpected idea.

It was also quite clear that Quirrell had gotten into some sort of trouble during his little jaunt to Eastern Europe-perhaps he had a terminal illness and was desperate for the Stone's powers. Or perhaps he wanted it for its monetary possibilities. Either way, he had been acting most bizarrely since the term began. Snape had enough to think about without a bunch of little children running around being stupid.

And then came the little... _problem_ with Peter Pettigrew, who was apparently alive, and Sirius Black, who may have been innocent of betraying the Potters. Even if he was not guilty of that particular crime-about which Snape still had his doubts-there was no question that Black was a raving lunatic with poor impulse control and murderous tendencies. Apparently he had been asking to see Harry-the very idea!

"You must not let Fudge give in to such demands!" Snape had told the Headmaster. "Black is either mentally unstable or intends harm to Potter."

Albus frowned and folded his fingers in thought.

"He might be innocent, Severus!" McGonagall had always been a bit too lenient regarding Black's antics. Her Gryffindor biases overriding her good sense. "And if so, since he is the boy's godfather..."

"Let me see here," replied Snape sarcastically. "Either his addled possibly criminal fool of a godfather or his awful relatives. I'm not sure what's worse!"

Minerva was a bit taken aback at that, and Severus knew she had no good response.

"He is safe at the Dursleys," Albus told them in a serious tone. "Hardly an insignificant point to consider, no matter how unpleasant they may be."

"I have to agree with Severus on this one, Albus!" McGonagall told him with her lips tightly pulled back. "There must be another place he can stay that you can ensure is safe."

Albus made a thoughtful noise. "Perhaps. The blood protection he has with his aunt is quite powerful. It's about the only thing that can guarantee that Voldemort," Snape flinched a bit at this "or his followers cannot get close."

"What about whatever the Potters used?" Minerva asked. "The Fidelius Charm-I admit it isn't something I know much about, but it's supposed to be foolproof."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Unfortunately, it is not so simple. The Charm requires someone capable of casting it and someone to hold the secret. After the death of Lily Potter, I may be the only one who can perform the act-but I am at a loss at who could hold the secret."

"I would!" Minerva insisted. "As would any of the other Heads, I am certain."

Snape nodded, although he knew Albus didn't trust him enough for such a thing. Perhaps a necessity, with the connection he still had to the Dark Lord. An unnecessary security risk to take.

"I will consider it," the Headmaster said in a tone that brooked no further discussion. For now, anyway. "In the meantime, I was hoping you two might accompany me to have a little discussion with Mister Black. I believe I can convince the Minister in a private interrogation to uncover the truth."

"Why bring me along?" Snape snorted derisively. "You both know my feelings on that animal."

Albus nodded and smiled. "_Precisely_, Severus. I know I can trust you to provide a counterbalance to Minerva in uncovering the truth."

Snape considered this for a moment. It seemed reasonable enough. Merlin knew that given leave, Minerva would probably let Black escape due to her fondness for Gryffindors. Actually, it seemed highly necessary to go as well-the only way to prevent Black from preying on her or Albus' sympathies.

"Very well," Snape said begrudgingly, hiding how much he agreed, even though he had a feeling Albus saw right through him. "But how will you explain it to Fudge?"

"A simple matter," Albus replied with a smile. "Minerva as the Head of Gryffindor House and its defender makes ideal sense, and I will merely... _imply_ that you are his closest surviving friend, hurt by his betrayal."

Snape made a face but nodded. Whatever it took to get a chance to confront Black to his mangy face.

* * *

Black looked even worse than expected, even though he had undoubtedly been cleaned up by St. Mungo's staff: sunken eyes, darting around in paranoia, constantly twitching his clawlike hands, thin to the point of ghoulishness. He barely looked human at all. But when he looked up to Snape with an utterly confused and then furious expression, Snape couldn't help but feel a bit amused.

"Sirius, might we have a word? I have assured the Minister that we might be quite helpful in uncovering the truth."

Sirius looked back at Dumbledore and clenched and unclenched his hands. "Y-yes, all right, sir. But why is _he_ here?" Black did not even bother to look at Snape when he asked this, and Snape wasn't sure what annoyed him more, the question or the refusal to look at him.

"I have my reasons," Albus said obliquely, finally putting his skill at equivocation to good use. "I suppose you have heard about the discovery of Peter Pettigrew on Hogwarts grounds?"

"Yes, I have," Sirius growled through clenched teeth. "That bloody evil rat... if I'd known he was at Hogwarts, I'd have gotten to him there. Somehow."

Snape rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Shut it, Snivellus!" Black snarled. "You know nothing!"

"Is there really any point to this?" Snape asked Albus. "He has no idea what he's even saying."

"Calm, Severus," Albus said evenly. "Now, Sirius... I will be asking you a few questions and I expect you to answer honestly. I do not wish to use Veritaserum, but if I must..."

"No, no, I'll answer whatever you need," Black insisted eagerly. "Whatever helps me get closer to seeing Harry."

Snape very nearly said something vicious at this, but managed to hold his tongue.

"Were you the Secret Keeper?" Albus asked in a suspiciously sincere tone.

Sirius sighed and leaned back. "No, I wasn't. Peter was the Secret Keeper-we thought, that is, Lily and James and us, we thought nobody would ever suspect Peter of it. I could run off and take the heat off everyone else. But obviously it didn't work... when I heard the news... that Peter..." His face curled into an ugly snarl. "I confronted him in the street, tried to get some sort of... explanation from the bastard. A few other Aurors were nearby, but it was mostly Muggles. He just yelled something like 'Why did you betray them, Sirius? Lily and James were our friends!'"

Sighing deeply, Sirius rubbed his temples and looked in deep pain. "I was thrown at that. Confused."

"Not in league with him?" Snape asked acidly, which was the question he had been pondering for quite some time.

"No, blast you, Snape, you damned fool!" Sirius yelled furiously at him and leaped up.

"Sirius..." Dumbledore said warningly, raising his hand up.

Black swallowed loudly and scowled at Snape before collapsing back into his chair.

"The Aurors did report you muttering about betraying the Potters," Dumbledore reminded, thankfully. Snape thought that perhaps Black might actually answer this, coming from the Headmaster.

"I wasn't in my right mind," Sirius said, and then glared at Snape to forestall the comment he expected. "But I was sort of thinking that I had betrayed them-not like Wormtail did, obviously, but it had been my idea to change Secret Keepers. Maybe he had been recruited afterwards. Maybe he was just too weak to resist. Or maybe he was dark all along, I don't know."

"Wormtail?" McGonagall pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Is that what you called Pettigrew?"

Sirius nodded. "Because his Animagus form is a rat. Mine's a large dog, and James was a stag."

Suddenly things began to click into place for Snape-Lily's Patronus had been a doe, but was it before or after she had started dating James-the stag? And Snape had a vague memory of more than one large beast when Potter had "saved" his life after Black had originally tried to kill him. Memories first thought to be fragmented due to the circumstances, but perhaps there was more truth than Snape had realized.

"I begin to find myself believing your tale," the Headmaster said slowly. "Severus? Minerva?"

McGonagall breathed in sharply and frowned. "I... believe I do, but I would like to question Pettigrew as well. After that, and perhaps a bit more time at St. Mungo's, we can allow you to meet with Harry."

Sirius smiled excitedly at that, but then his face fell as he glanced over to Snape.

This was it... his chance to cut out the mutt for good. But the only problem was that Snape... wasn't certain. Was Black mentally unbalanced? Assuredly. Had he honestly meant to kill with his little "prank"? Unclear. But was he associated with the Dark Lord? That much... was unlikely. So Snape realized he had only one question left.

"Why did you try to kill me?"

Black blinked in utter surprise, his mouth hanging slack. "Wait a moment," he said. "Are you talking about the incident when James saved your life?"

"Yes," Snape replied through gritted teeth. "When Potter saved me from your own efforts to kill me. Why did you do it? Why did you hate me so much?"

"I..." Sirius stopped talking and looked down at the floor. Then he looked back up, straight in Snape's eyes. "Let me be honest with you, Snape. I wasn't thinking it through at all. I thought you would get scared and run off, maybe wetting yourself or something. But when I told James, laughing about it, he was shocked. Terrified. And then I got scared I had gone too far. James ran off to do something about it, but I was..." at this Sirius looked down again. "Too much of a coward, too filled with anger and hate to do anything about it."

He sighed deeply. "I know you didn't deserve to die. You were just a kid, like us. I can only apologize for that." He smirked slightly. "But don't ask me to apologize for pranking you. It's not like you didn't give back twice as hard."

"I didn't have three others on my side," Snape retorted with a curled lip.

"Just take the bloody compliment, Snape!" Sirius said in exasperation.

"If I may interrupt," the Headmaster said smoothly. "Severus, is your curiosity sated? Do you believe in Sirius' innocence?"

Snape didn't quite want to admit that he did, especially as Sirius would never forget that his freedom had been ensured by Snape. And then he realized... Sirius would _never forget_. No matter what happened in the future, the fool would owe everything to his old school rival. Perhaps then, Snape could live with Harry-eventually, of course-seeing his godfather.

"Well..." Snape said slowly, drawing out the word deliciously, although it seemed that as usual, Albus had annoyingly already figured out what he had decided. Smiling like that. "I suppose I do."

* * *

Naturally, it was easy enough to convince Albus that Black would need some "recovery" time before seeing Harry, despite Minerva's wavering at Black's pouting. But there was still the matter of "Wormtail".

"The Minister is still holding Mr. Pettigrew in custody," Albus told them later. "And he is flexing his political muscles a bit-hoping to be the Minister that fixed the mistakes caused by Bagnold. We'll have our day to speak to Peter, but not quite yet."

"He probably hopes to cripple Crouch's reputation too," Snape agreed with a sneer. Politics were such nonsense, as was this squabbling about for minute bits of power. Such games of ridiculous intrigue had always been ever present in the Slytherin House, one of the many reasons Snape had little use for his housemates, and vice versa.

Minerva frowned. "Why do you say that?"

"Crouch was responsible for the arrest and imprisonment of Sirius in Azkaban," Dumbledore explained. "His explicit orders, you see. Although I'm sure he'd say he was merely operating as needed within the bounds of the law. He already suffered a demotion due to that scandal when his son perished in Azkaban."

"Ah, yes," McGonagall said. "I do recall that sad tale. Poor Barty, joining in with the Death Eaters. Clearly over his head."

Snape nodded. "And although Bartemius doesn't care so much about his political reputation any longer, Fudge can't forget that Crouch was once very close to becoming Minister himself."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Politics. Such foolishness."

"On that we agree," Snape told her with a small smirk, expecting her to be a bit surprised by the remark. "Albus, on the other hand..."

"We cannot all be pure educators as you two, I'm afraid," Albus said with a insufferable smile.

* * *

Snape had never liked Halloween, finding the fascination with dark imagery needlessly morbid, and the obsession with harvest iconography to be gaudy at best. But Albus reveled in each and every glowing pumpkin, so there wasn't much point in arguing. Instead, Snape spent the Feast drinking heavily and watching everyone with suspicion. The Weasley twins were chatting about something nefarious, no doubt, although Snape was glad that they had never met or heard of the Marauders. What a horror that would be!

He made a mental note to keep Sirius far away from any Weasleys. As for Harry, he was looking unusually cross and out of sorts, as was the Patil twin from Gryffindor. She kept glaring at Granger and the youngest Weasley, then pretending she wasn't doing anything at all. Clearly the two nitwits had finally crossed the line and shown Potter how awful they were. Well, it was about time. And given Parvati's obvious anger at them, perhaps Harry would finally get it through his head to stop bothering with the two idiots. Snape wondered what exactly had happened, so he decided to casually bring it up with Flitwick-not too much interest, of course.

And then Snape realized that Halloween was the anniversary of Lily's murder. Hmm... perhaps that explained it; Granger and Weasley being typically insensitive and not grasping simple human decency. Poor Harry... Well, at least now he'd have a decent friend, and if Longbottom ever got his head out of his arse in Potions, perhaps he'd be a reasonable alternative as well. Snape took another sip of spiked pumpkin juice and wondered if there was some way to give remedial lessons to Longbottom. Not that Snape would personally do such a waste of time, but perhaps an older student could be... _persuaded_ to help. Really, it was better for everyone. Fewer accidents in Potions would only improve safety.

He'd have to be careful in case Albus found out-no doubt the old man would take it entirely the wrong way.

When Snape realized that Quirrell was oddly missing from the Feast, the Defense Professor appeared suddenly with a panicked, girlish scream. Trolls! The very idea. Snape didn't believe it for a moment. Catching Dumbledore's eye, Snape knew the Headmaster didn't entirely buy the story either, but appearances were important. Albus nodded slightly and Snape returned it-he got the message.

After giving a few hasty instructions to his prefects (Snape was reasonably certain that there wasn't an actual troll in the dungeons, but the other professors would check it out anyhow-his Slytherins would be in no actual harm), Snape stepped back into the shadows and waited impatiently for Quirrell to make his move. At first, Snape was worried that Quirrell might actually legitimately fainted, but as soon as the Hall had cleared, the sneaky oddball slowly got up and raced towards what was almost certainly the third floor corridor.

Snape followed quickly behind, albeit a bit out of sorts-cursing himself for drinking too much and impairing his judgment. Just his luck he'd let the hangover cure in his office. When Snape arrived at the third floor, the door was ajar-well, it wasn't like the simple locking spell would keep any reasonably educated wizard out. It merely a precaution to prevent accidental entry. As he began to open the door, Snape suddenly tripped and fell against the wall, sending the door wide open.

A loud growling shook the floor-the beast was still alive and awake then. And if so, Quirrell had likely not made it past. Snape picked himself up and quickly looked into the room-the trapdoor was still firmly closed, so he slammed the door shut. Perhaps Quirrell had not counted on the dog-so much the better. Snape locked the door again, this time with a significantly more powerful locking spell-why make it too easy, after all?

What nonsense. But then he wondered... could Quirrell have really been telling the truth about the troll? Snape decided to hurry back to check.

But as he hustled towards the dungeons, he spotted Flitwick coming toward him.

Flitwick looked pleased. "Ah, Severus, excellent! You must come at once; Albus said you'd be likely heading towards the dungeons. We found the troll."

Snape suddenly felt slightly nervous. "Was anyone hurt?"

Flitwick shook his head. "No, no, well..." The short man frowned. "Actually the troll is dead. And we don't know who killed it."

"What?" Snape said angrily. "How is that possible?"

"It wasn't in the dungeons, we checked there first," Filius explained. "Albus believed Quirrell must've got it wrong."

Got it wrong... intentionally, more than likely. Delay the search until Quirrell had time to scout out the door. Thankfully he hadn't time to get past the monster. But now Quirrell knew about the dog-an important and dangerous fact.

And Dumbledore probably already realized this, but Snape would tell him anyhow.

"The troll was actually right near the first floor girls' toilets," Flitwick continued. "The one right near my classroom."

Hmm... first floor near the Charms classroom. It was actually conceivable that the troll had simply walked there from the dungeons. But given Quirrell's suspicious behavior, Snape wasn't assuming anything.

"When we finally tracked it down, it was dead-decapitated actually." Flitwick chuckled. "A highly clean kill. Impeccably done. And a troll's skin is quite difficult to penetrate."

Snape grunted. He didn't need to be lectured on obvious facts on trolls. "And there is no evidence of who did it or how?"

Flitwick shook his head. "None."

Only Dumbledore and McGonagall were still near the troll when Snape and Flitwick arrived.

"Oh, there you are Severus," Dumbledore looked up from where had been examining the troll's head. "Pomona went back to check in with her House, and Minerva wanted to check for signs of a golem or artificially conjured troll."

"It's real enough to me," McGonagall said with pursed lips. "Silvanus will be here shortly to check on it. As for me, I too will be ensuring everything is safe with my Gryffindors." She nodded to Snape and Flitwick and walked away.

"I also sent for Hagrid," Dumbledore said with a smile. "But you two will also be useful here-Severus, anything unusually Dark? Filius, can you determine what sort of spell was used?"

Snape rubbed his chin thoughtfully and walked over to the troll's corpse. It was indeed a very clean cut. There weren't many spells that could do something like that-even _Sectumsempra_ would have left other wounds. "There's nothing that seems particularly Dark on first glance," he said. "But I will take a slightly closer look at the head." With a wave of his wand, Snape floated the disgustingly foul thing and rotated it slowly. It was indeed a very clean cut, highly unusual: almost as if no spell had been used at all.

"Hmm," Snape mused, thinking about it. There was something he was missing.

"Why, there's no magical residue at all!" Flitwick exclaimed from near the troll's body. "Perhaps it was cleaned up somehow?"

Albus frowned. "Even the very shortest methods for such a thing would take hours, or would otherwise leave very obvious traces. And although I am not as familiar with some of the Darker rituals to achieve a dampening or cleansing effect, we would certainly notice the traces of the ritual. Severus, do you concur?"

"That sounds accurate, as far as my own knowledge goes," Snape agreed.

There was a panting noise, and they were all instantly at alert. But it was only Kettleburn, hustling as fast as he could with his dearth of limbs. Upon seeing the troll, his mouth practically dropped open. "It _is_ a bloody troll! Really, you should ask the Defense Professor about this."

Snape's lip curled. "Quirinus fainted at just the thought of it. I rather doubt he's up for examining its corpse." Of course, Snape did not mention the rest of the story.

"Well, alright then," grumbled Kettleburn. "Just not my exact area of expertise." He looked closely at the headless body for a minute or so, and then hobbled over to see the floating head. "Severus, you mind holding it in place it so I can see the neckline?"

With a nod, Snape held the head in place while Silvanus took a closer look.

"I can't be completely sure," he said finally. "But if you ask me, someone cut off its head with a blade."

"A blade?" Flitwick blinked in surprise. "Surely no knife or sword is sharp enough to pierce a troll's skin?"

"Enchanted one might." Kettleburn said simply.

"Nobody's bothered to use swords in ages," Snape said thoughtfully. "Not when magic is far more versatile. I can't even think of the last time I've heard of such a thing. Or even where you might find one."

"I can," said Dumbledore with a glint in his eye. "Although as far as I am aware, it has been lost for centuries."

Flitwick was shocked. "You don't mean?"

"Let us proceed to my office at once-although perhaps, Filius, I can ask for your assistance in warding off the area to prevent any accidental discovery of the beast?"

After that had been completed, Albus asked Kettleburn to begin the cleanup effort while the three of them adjourned to the Headmaster's office.

"So what exactly are you two thinking of?" Severus asked.

"I believe that Albus is thinking of the legendary sword of Gryffindor," Filius said. "Which was believed to be hidden somewhere in Hogwarts ages ago."

Albus nodded. "Indeed. But there is another reason I asked us to come." He made a motion to the Sorting Hat. "The Hat, having also belonged to Godric Gryffindor, may also know if the sword has been found."

"You younglings are always so concerned with ancient treasures," the Hat said suddenly with what sounded like a smirk. "Normally I wouldn't be able to tell you much, but I can tell you that the sword can be summoned by any true heir of Gryffindor when the need is great enough."

"I have heard as much," said Albus with a nod. "But we are merely trying to determine if it has been summoned-a troll was killed by what was almost certainly an enchanted blade, you see."

The Hat made a huffing sound. "A troll? Many weapons could perform such an act. They used to be all over the place, back when everyone had a sword. However..."

Snape, who had never been in a conversation with the Hat since he had been Sorted, finally got past his initial apprehension. "Spit it out!"

"Severus Snape, from Slytherin, as I recall. I wonder, did you ever reach the ambitious levels I remember you craving?"

"Assuredly," Snape said quickly with a sneer. "Now you were saying?"

"I am working against my enchantment a bit," the Hat explained. "Trying to figure out how to put this. But I think I have it. The sword of Gryffindor could indeed be used to slay a troll, and easily, if the wielder was skilled enough. It is far more likely it was used than any other blade, based on what I know. As for whether or not someone summoned it... who can say? If it was, I can assure you that they would have been a true Gryffindor."

Severus frowned, not very happy with this response.

"Answers and questions alike," mused Albus. "I suppose it remains an open mystery for now. If the Hat cannot tell us who has the sword and killed the troll, we must endeavor to discover who has it ourselves."

"Although," said Flitwick. "If he or she did kill the troll, they did us quite a favor, keeping the students from harm."

Snape rubbed his forehead. "Or perhaps the sword thief was working with Quirrell."

Albus looked back with an imperceptibly displeased look. Oh, hell.

"Working with Quirrell?" Flitwick asked in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"Filius, please have a seat." Albus pulled out a wand in an extremely quick and fluid motion, waving it about to cast what was likely a privacy charm. "We should be clear about each of our loyalties here before continuing." He glanced at Snape and then sat down himself.

Flitwick looked between the two, his hand on his own wand, clearly already putting things together. He finally nodded and sat down.

Snape was furious at himself for such a verbal slip up, and blamed the alcohol from earlier in the evening. Never again would he drink so much without a hangover cure on hand.

* * *

After a lengthy discussion about "trust", Flitwick had raised the legitimate issue of whether or not Minerva or Pomona should also be aware of Quirrell's suspicious activity. Albus promised to "consider it", which wasn't exactly ideal, but a decent start. For his part, Snape was mildly pleased that someone who wasn't at an Albus-level mastermind of intrigue was actually in on it. At least he'd have a peer he could talk to-really, he hadn't had that sort of relationship since... well, since Lily. And although Flitwick had actually been Snape's Professor as well, there was a real respect between them.

And unlike Minerva, intelligent and skilled though she was, Flitwick was highly rational. A welcome change of pace from the overly emotional Sprout and McGonagall (although Minerva would never admit it). So Snape was cautiously optimistic.

Of course, soon enough it was time for the first Quidditch match of the year, pitting his own House against the Gryffindors. Sitting out in the stands and watching the players mount their brooms, Snape felt conflicted. Perhaps if Slytherin was ahead and Harry managed to catch a Snitch to end the game, but the point differential still left Slytherin with a win? That seemed like the ideal outcome, but Snape was too realistic to put much faith in such dreams.

But soon Snape became caught in watching one of the most ridiculously lopsided and exciting matches he had ever seen. The Gryffindor team was doing stunt work unlike anything Hogwarts had had in ages. Harry, though, was just floating by himself, clearly waiting for the Snitch. And then, suddenly, his broom lurched, nearly knocking Harry off. Someone was hexing Potter! Snape felt cold suddenly and quickly pulled out his wand to cast a countercurse-unfortunately, whoever was hexing the broom wasn't halting their own efforts just to let Snape stop them.

Unable to pull his eyes away, or he'd lose sight of his target, Snape tried to sense where the curse was coming from. Where was Albus when he was needed? Snape felt a terrible heat all of a sudden and he realized that the bloody stands were on fire! Sparing a quick glance to confirm that Harry was back on his broom, he worked quickly with the other professors to extinguish the flames. It appeared as though no one was seriously hurt, although some students were clearly burned.

McGonagall looked livid and gestured to Snape. "Let's go down."

"What happened?" Snape asked. "I didn't see."

"Oliver Wood is what happened!" Minerva said with a quiet rage. "He set the stands on fire!" She paused and took a deep breath. "At least Harry managed to get the Snitch during the commotion."

"Did he?" Snape mumbled, although the outcome of the game hadn't really been in doubt by that point. He'd need to have words with Flint about the state of the team's abilities. Perhaps Draco should've been put on the team after all?

No, Snape decided, winning the Cup was not worth indulging bad behavior from the only student he had ever known before they came to Hogwarts. Draco needed to learn respect. And he had in fact been getting a bit better-perhaps in a few months, Snape would reconsider his Quidditch request.

Later, when they all spoke in the Headmaster's office, Snape had mixed feelings about the gormless idiot. Wood was blabbering on about protecting Harry-and if Snape thought he had a single iota of guile, it'd be a different story altogether. But although Wood was an idiot, he was a sincere one. So much as it pained him, Snape allowed the Quidditch victory to go through without protest. Potter seemed happy about it anyway.

Things were changing so fast and Snape wasn't sure how he felt about any of it. Harry being more like his mother-well, that was a welcome surprise, certainly. His idiot friends hopefully being cast aside. Draco finally maturing. And even ridiculous Longbottom seemed to somehow be getting marginally less terrible in Potions. He tried to hide it for some reason-very well, in fact, but Snape had noticed. He even approved of the sneakiness.

With all this on his mind, Snape decided to get drunk-although he'd be sure to have the hangover cure ready just in case. But as he approached his room, he saw Quirrell hanging about, leaning against the door. He seemed to be asleep, oddly enough.

"Alright, that's enough," Snape said sharply. "Quirinus, go back to your own room." And then Severus halted as he realized that Quirell's turban was missing and he was entirely tied up in ropes. And more horrifyingly, there was a face on the back of his skull, thankfully also unconscious.

"Ah, damn."

It seemed he'd need that hangover cure after all.

* * *

**The answer to the question was this: 1) Trick him into thinking of Harry purely in terms in Lily and not James and 2) give him other people he legitimately is annoyed by. Thank you for keeping with this story! APPRECIATE IT GUYS AND GALS!**


	4. Chapter 3: Oh, Very Well!

**Eight month necro update! ****BTW, this is where things start to change a bit more... rapidly.**

**You may wish to reread the previous chapters, but if not, here is the summary:**

**_Harry Potter is not a time traveler. But that being said, other people may just be. Ron's acting a bit odd, Hermione's even more of a know-it-all, and Malfoy is almost... polite? So far, Harry's in a weird situation, but at least some of the other Gryffindors, like Parvati and Neville aren't time travelers too, right? Wrong, Neville has showed up and he's decided to confront Hermione and Ron. And what's up with REDACTED?_**

* * *

Even a genius could hate life. She could pretend to like life after Hogwarts, but in fact she hated every day and every single second of her existence. Her work was praised and lauded by everyone important in the Ministry and more importantly, the Department of Mysteries, where she helped to unlock the secrets of the universe.

If only she cared about any of it.

It took a few years before she realized the truth, because she saw _them_ one day in the Alley. Harry and his _lovely_ wife and his _lovely_ children, bustling about shopping for the new school term. She was so full of spite and jealousy that her hand was on her wand and half out before she caught herself. And so she finally knew why she hated. But the revelation did not serve to sooth her woes or lessen her sadness; instead she was only utterly and completely depressed and lost. The work lost its meaning and soon she was told to take a "holiday" until she was back up to her former impeccable self.

The idea came when she was drunk off her arse in a pub in the middle of Muggle London. Some crazy story from a Muggle news story about bizarrely impressive advances in their technology, especially considering they were Muggles. Some of it seemed practically like magic. And so she began to wonder: Could it be possible that the Muggles had something useful after all? The Department was frightfully easy to break into, but the ideas were slim, until she recalled the old room of Time Turners. None still remained so many years after Harry and his stupid friends had destroyed them, and yet... If she could go back somehow, further than all theories suggested and magic allowed, could she change the past? Be together with Harry and show him they were meant for each other?

And Ginevra and Hermione and all the other little whores would just have to deal with it. Voldemort would be even easier with her new knowledge and capabilities; she was still no great fighter, but she knew that Riddle had used Horcruxes. It was a secret, but everyone in the Department knew about it. Horcruxes were dangerous, but there were ways around them. And she knew them all.

First there was the critical matter of going back in time. Magic did not hold the secret. But maybe Muggle science did? It was easy enough with mind-altering spells to push things in the Muggle world, manipulate politicians and scientists to pursue the ends she desired. Years passed until the breakthrough was discovered. A single theory, proven and disproven, Muggles first deciding it might work and then years later stating the opposite. But thirty years after the start of her research and forced collaboration with the Muggles, they found out how to travel through time.

A cylinder of unbelievable density, rotating at ludicrous speeds, if long enough could produce an effect of time going in reverse. It couldn't be done except theoretically, even with the final component needed: the cylinder had to be of infinite length. It was impossible; the Muggles could never create a cylinder that was anywhere near long enough to matter. But with magic it was a different story entirely...

It was another ten years before the cylinder was completed in the vastness of space near the Moon, close enough to flee to Earth just in case, but far enough that if she failed, the planet might still survive. Of course, if the time travel worked, bugger the planet. She waited there, protected from the harshness of nothingness with magic, driven nearly mad with her obsession. But this time the madness helped keep her focused on her goal. And so she completed her time travel machine, bent through time and space to rip a hole through reality.

When she stood before the event horizon as it drew closer to overcoming her, floating in the empty black of space, she saw what lay behind the curtain of reality. Time stretched in a way she could never have predicted, and the purity of the magic underlying reality pulsed and began to reach out to her. As she fell the precise amount of time backwards in time she had measured for, she couldn't help but see everything.

And her mind broke under the strain. It was no surprise when they found her that she would not awaken. Yet.

* * *

He had survived, so he should have been happy. And he tried, he really did. But it was hard for him, despite the happiness of others. Sure, Harry had survived the final battles with Voldemort, as well as a few others of varying levels of relevance. But every single member of the Weasley family had died, save one. They had all perished, even his twin - that one had perhaps hit the hardest of all. And for someone for whom family was life and had always been surrounded by five brothers and a little sister, it wasn't something you could just get over, despite all the "talks" he had in the years following the fall of the Dark Lord.

It helped that Harry needed him, a member of the family which Harry had admitted he considered his own. So the surviving Weasley kept it together for the sake of Harry, who had lost so much, including the girl he loved, and Hermione, who had lost Ron. It broke his heart to see Harry sad, so he did his best, trying to keep Harry smiling. But sometimes it just seemed like there wasn't much point to any of it.

Nothing changed much until one drunken night shared with Hermione where they shared their sorrows and worries for the future. It was a night that neither would forget. He never planned to betray the memory of his younger brother by falling in love with his girlfriend, and Hermione was no scarlet woman either. Harry seemed uncomfortable about it at times, but he said that he wanted them to be happy.

That was actually the worst thing Harry could have ever said.

For the survivor, only his relationship with Hermione kept him sane. They talked for hours about magical theory and endlessly mentioned Ron. Never would let themselves forget. Things kept going in much the same way as the world slowly healed. But the dead were still dead, and nothing could change that. Until one day Hermione retold the story about her third year and traveling to the past. That was the spark. It wasn't Hermione that had the insane idea to change time, but she liked it all the same. Two people working together can often achieve things neither could alone, and thus it was in this case.

In the end, it didn't take very long at all, and they planned to go through the Black Door into the worlds past gone at the time when the stars aligned and the planetary alignment was just right. Hermione had been in charge of half the summoning concepts, always writing her notes and sharing very little until it was absolutely necessary. She seemed to think no one else could handle the final spellwork. The survivor was fine with it, until the night before the Door, Hermione changed her mind. Worried about the possibility of erasing the people who survived, the people they knew. Worried that they would just get lost in the nothingness behind the Door. He tried to convince her, maybe to take Harry along if needed, but Hermione could not be moved.

And time was running out. If they didn't take the Door, it would a year or more before travel might be possible again. And he could not be that patient, not with his family waiting for him. But he couldn't summon the Door alone, not without the research Hermione had performed. The next day as the hours slipped away, the survivor drank himself near to death, despondent and feeling utterly hopeless. Perhaps it was the desperation coupled with the drink that made him do what came next. Or maybe he was only lying to himself.

It was easy enough to steal the notes, because by that point he knew Hermione very well indeed. Most people would have found it gibberish and useless. But for the survivor, despite the haze of alcohol, it clicked everything into place.

The Black Door stood there, waiting for him to pass through, if he had the courage.

Well, was he a Gryffindor or wasn't he?

One thought penetrated the cloud around his mind as he walked through the passageway. He'd probably need to make sure Harry stayed alive too. The kid would need all the help he could get.

* * *

**Far Too Many Time Travelers**

**Chapter 4: Oh, Very Well!**

* * *

As he slowly sat down, Harry looked between the tied up Ron and Hermione, his crazy friends, and Neville, who until now he had not thought of as crazy at all. But that was clearly just wishful thinking.

"So what's going on?" Harry asked, swallowing back a lump in his throat and hoping no one else noticed his trembling hands. "Why did you attack them, Neville?"

Neville smiled at Harry and leaned back in his own chair. "I had to be careful, Harry. I didn't know what to expect from these two." He then leaned forward and his face became quite serious. "I had to be _sure_, Harry."

"Oh come off it!" Ron said, rolling his eyes. "You're talking in circles!"

"He's right, Neville," Hermione said in clipped, enunciated tones. "Why don't you just go ahead and tell Harry the truth? Or shall I?"

Neville waved his wand in a casual, yet somehow dismissive manner. "No worries, Hermione. I'm just not used to explaining things. Been keeping to myself for a long time now. But you are right - Harry needs to know the truth, although it's clear neither one of you was going to do anything of the sort."

"I needed time!" Hermione insisted and looked sadly at Harry, although he had no idea what either of them was talking about. "Protecting things, worrying about Occlumency."

"What, you thought someone was going to read your mind?" Neville asked incredulously.

Hermione flicked her eyes to the side and then nodded. "Snape, of course. And Dumbledore."

Neville laughed. "And I thought I was paranoid."

"Hold on," said Ron slowly. "Hold on both of you. Are you... are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Hermione nodded, but didn't look Ron directly, and her eyes seemed a bit wet.

With a chuckle, Neville said, "I am saying that."

"What are you _all saying?_" Harry hissed, barely holding back a yell.

"Ah, sorry, Harry," Neville told him. "Got a bit lost there. We're time travelers, Harry."

"You are?" Ron asked in surprise.

"I knew it!" Hermione said softly.

For a few seconds Harry didn't say anything. And then he processed what Neville had said.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"We are time travelers, Harry." Neville gestured to the two tied up Gryffindors. "All three of us. Although I actually think Malfoy is one also. And probably at least one other."

"So do I!" Hermione told him with a small grin. "But I had no idea you were also. You hid it so well."

"Yeah, well you three bollocksed quite a bit up, let me tell you," Neville said, rubbing his head. "Luckily it wasn't too bad. Snape seems to hate you, but he's actually fond of Harry. I don't know how you lot managed that, but it's more than I could've done, that's for sure."

Hermione made a scoffing sound. "I wish I had done it all intentionally, but quite a bit was by accident, let me tell you."

"I didn't think I was doing so bad," Ron muttered.

At this, Neville's eyes flashed and he jumped out of his chair. "You _knew_ the troll was coming and just let it wander about! And then you led Harry there like a bunch of _children_, risking his life for no reason." He took a deep breath, visibly calming down. "Luckily I anticipated your failure," he continued. "So I took care of it."

"Bloody hell, _you_ killed the troll? By cutting off its head?" Ron asked, his jaw hung open. "Neville, that's bloody impressive. Bloody impressive."

"Language, Ron," Hermione said distractedly. "Although he's right. How did you do it?"

"The Sword of Gryffindor," Neville said casually. "We're old pals."

"Ha!" Ron grinned at him. "That's brilliant, Neville."

By this point, Harry had given up trying to follow the conversation at all and just sighed. He was completely and utterly confused.

Hermione looked over at Harry and frowned. "Oh dear, Harry, this must be frightfully odd to hear all at once, isn't it?"

Harry nodded but didn't say anything, not feeling happy about being the only non-whatever in the room.

"Unless..." Ron cocked his head at Harry. "I don't suppose you're a time traveler too, Harry?"

"Don't be an idiot, Ron," Neville said with a laugh. "Harry's just good old Harry. There are enough of us without him getting involved."

"But hold on!" Harry interjected before the conversation could get out of control. "What do you mean you're time travelers? Like, from the future or something?"

Neville closed his eyes and rubbed his face. He took a deep breath and then nodded. "I don't know about these two, Harry, but I am from the future. About ten years from now, or so. Where all of you are dead."

"What?" Ron gaped. "That's impossible. In the future, you guys are the ones who are dead."

"Hermione?" Neville looked at her.

She bit her lip and then nodded. "It appears, somehow, that we are all from _different _futures. Although I'm not sure how that's possible."

Neville shrugged and twirled his wand around his fingers. "Don't ask me. You were always the brains of the gang. I was more about the practical side of things. Killing Death Eaters and so on."

"If you're from the future, why did you come back?" Harry asked. He scratched his chin. "I guess I could ask all of you that question."

Hermione gave him a very small smile. "My answer is relatively simple, although difficult to speak about." She took a deep breath, barely moving against the ropes that still bound her. "At the end of what should have been our seventh year at Hogwarts Voldemort and his monstrous thugs attacked Hogwarts. He had been resurrected years prior, you see, but I won't get into the specifics." Her eyes narrowed and she looked over at Neville. "He won't be getting the chance again this time around."

"If you're honest as my Hermione, we're agreed," Neville told her.

Ron made a snorting sound. "Of course she's honest. Why wouldn't she be?"

Neville laughed softly and brushed back his hair. "Ron, I am extremely curious to hear your tale when Hermione finishes hers. But until then, let's wait to ask questions until we're all on the same page, eh?"

"That makes sense to me," said Harry. "I'm confused enough already."

"Alright then." Hermione nodded. "So Voldemort had attacked the school, and you, that is, the Harry of the future, went off to face Voldemort for the last time. Harry believed he was the only one that could defeat Riddle."

Neville grunted.

"I believe the notion came from Dumbledore, who had been killed a year prior," Hermione continued.

"What?" Harry gasped. "That's horrible."

"It is," agreed Hermione. "But I don't plan to let that happen again, if Neville ever lets us go that is." She glanced at Neville, who didn't respond in any visible way. "But Dumbledore's plan, whatever it was, had failed. Harry was killed by Voldemort and that was the beginning of the end. We tried to fight back, but morale was... destroyed."

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it with a stricken look on his face.

"Casualties grew worse," Hermione said. "Neville and Ron survived with me for a while, but after only two years, I was essentially alone. Were there still pockets of resistance as the war continued in intensity?" She shrugged. "Naturally. But I had two options. One, attempt to take vengeance on Riddle, which seemed impossible, as he seemed incapable of dying. I tried a few times, but nothing worked. So there was the second option: fix it."

"By going back in time," said Neville with a smirk. "How'd you figure it out?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's ridiculously technical, Neville. The details are unimportant. What is important is that I came back to keep Harry safe and alive while also defeating Riddle once and for all."

"So Riddle... is that another name for Voldemort?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sorry, Harry!" Hermione grimaced. "Yes, of course, I expected you to know all about it already just like my… well you understand. Tom Riddle is the real name of Voldemort. His father was a Muggle and his mother was a witch that died shortly after he was born."

"Huh," Harry sat back in his chair, considering this new information. He hadn't realized that Voldemort was an orphan... just like him. It wasn't the sort of thing one liked hearing.

"You're not like him, Harry," said Ron in just above a whisper. When Harry looked over at him in shock, Ron gave him the barest of grins. "I knew the future you pretty well, right?" he said. "You've compared yourself to You-Know-You in my past, so I get the temptation. But you're nothing like him. You're a good person, Harry. You can take my word on that account."

Neville gave Ron a hard look. "And you, Ron? Does that story seem familiar to you?"

Ron sighed and looked down at the floor. "Yeah, 'fraid so. Except of course that in my future, you both had died and I was still alive. Hogwarts was basically destroyed, but I actually was able to hide out in the rubble for a long time. When I found Dumbledore's portrait, he walked me through the contingency plans and how to setup a secret gate through time. I didn't need to understand the theory, just needed to do what needed to be-" He choked on this last word and screwed his eyes open and closed rapidly. "What needed to be done. Bugger, I've been so overwhelmed with life here in the past, I've suppressed everything I've had to do."

"What did you have to do Ron?" Hermione asked, a catch in her voice and a worried look in her eyes.

"I dunno if you've heard of most of it," Ron said in what was nearly a mumble. "But the worst was something called the Xo Xibalba. I - I don't want to talk about it right now."

Hermione paled visibly and she looked over at Neville, who shrugged.

"Clearly sounds off, but I don't know it," he said. "But now that you two have told Harry your horror story from the future, let me tell one that's just a bit... happier. For one reason." He smiled in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Because in mine, Riddle bit it."

* * *

"Well, that was quite a story," Harry said after Neville had finished, and then sat down, having forgotten he had stood up at some point during the tale.

"If it was anyone else, I wouldn't have believed it," Ron said, looking off at nothing at all.

"Are you sure you didn't get radiation poisoning?" Hermione asked.

"You mean after I traveled back in time?" Neville replied dryly.

Hermione winced. "Yes, well. Good point."

"Now that we're all caught up, I think we should figure out our next move," said Neville. "If you two really are who you say you are, you won't have any issues with a good old fashioned Unbreakable Vow."

Ron grimaced. "Do we have to? Can't you just use Veritaserum on us?"

"That's a potion that makes you tell the truth," Neville said to Harry, who smiled at the answer to a question he hadn't come up with yet. "But no, I don't think so. First of all, I don't have any. Second, I don't even know what it looks like if I wanted to steal it from Snape. Third, there are ways around it."

"Not without wands," Hermione started to say, and then paused and shifted her eyes to the side. "Well, at least for the most part."

Neville grinned. "For most wizards or witches, I'd agree, but powerful ones... there are ways around it. And I'd wager you both know a few."

Ron laughed. "Got me there, Nev. I hadn't thought about it, but I actually do know a few little tricks."

"And this Unbreakable Vow," said Harry. "I guess it's some sort of... unbreakable vow?" As he said this, Harry felt overwhelmingly stupid.

"Don't get bogged down in the details, Harry," Neville told him. "The only important thing is that if you break the vow, you die. Simple enough."

"There are loopholes for Vows, Neville," Hermione said softly.

Neville nodded. "Right, wording and such. I think I've got a decent way to word it. Yeah, and if you can outthink it, break the vow. If you dare." He chuckled. "But since I'm the one with the wand, I'll be the Bonder, and each of you will say the same vow. Agreed?"

Ron nodded, and after a moment, so did Hermione.

It seemed to take very little time to administer the Vow to Hermione and Ron, probably because all parties involved knew what to do. For his part, Harry just tried to figure out the bizarre mess he had landed in. Three different people, first years at that, all claiming to be time travelers from years off in the future. And from the sounds of it, not very pleasant ones. Even Neville's tale, with its triumphant but bittersweet decapitation that sounded violent but exciting, painted the picture of a world gone to Hell. Or whatever the Wizarding equivalent of that was.

So if they were liars, they were absurdly good ones.

Harry wondered if anyone else might have also traveled in time. He ruled himself out, of course. You'd remember something like that – unless Harry really _was_ from the future but had changed his own memory for his own mysterious reasons. Or maybe he was actually _Voldemort_ from the future with a _different_ mysterious reason? Harry shook his head vigorously at that last thought. There was such a thing as too much imagination.

But who were logical candidates? Hopefully not Voldemort, come to think of it, or they'd be in trouble. Harry reviewed the people he actually knew. The other Gryffindors seemed normal, especially Parvati, who was becoming a real friend, shockingly enough. Harry considered that oddity; maybe she was only nice because was also a time traveler and pretending to be his friend for her own mysterious reasons. It was a distressing and depressing idea, so Harry pretended he hadn't considered it and moved on. He didn't really know anyone from outside the Gryffindor House, except for Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy. Snape seemed alright to Harry, certainly more than he was to the other Gryffindors. But then again, he was friends with Harry's Mum, so that made some sense.

And as for Malfoy….

Hmm. Actually, perhaps Draco Malfoy had been a bit odd too. It was hardly the craziest idea Harry had heard even that day, especially after the Quidditch nonsense. Although that brought up another possibility: what about the other team members? All relatively normal, except for Wood, who had absurdly brilliant strategies and had set the stands on fire.

Right. So if Wood _wasn't _a time traveler, he was just legitimately insane. Harry wasn't sure which one would be worse.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, breaking up his reverie. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah," Harry replied, starting to pay attention again. "So… are you done?"

Hermione crossed her arms and looked over at Neville with a mild glare. "I would think so, but Neville hasn't returned our wands yet."

"Yeah, _Nev_," Ron said, holding out his hand with a wide grin. "Fork 'em over."

Neville laughed. "Great choice of words, _Wonnie_. I guess I'm satisfied. Hope so, anyway." He reached into his robes and tossed back their wands. "Don't try to Stun me or anything to 'get me back'" he warned them. "I wouldn't care for it."

Ron made a face. "I'm not Ginny, Neville. I wouldn't hold a grudge for no good reason."

Hermione made a muffled snorting sound, then looked like she was shocked the noise had come from her.

Ron glared at her. "Laugh it up, Hermione. If you're anything like…" he stumbled slightly on his words before continuing. "Like my Hermione, you're no better."

"I'm a _little_ better," she replied, sticking up her chin airily.

"Well, okay," Ron accepted with a chuckle.

"So what's our next move?" Neville asked. "Harry should get a say, naturally."

Harry blinked in surprise. "Thanks, but I don't really know. I mean, maybe we should find the other time travelers, if there are any others. And I dunno… isn't there someone trustworthy you can talk to? People you know from your first time through."

Hermione grimaced. "I don't know if there are any adults that fit that category, but as for the other temporally displaced individuals… the evidence seems to point towards Malfoy."

Ron frowned and then clenched a fist. "Of course! No wonder he's been acting so strangely."

"Also Oliver might be one," Harry added. "He didn't set anything on fire when guys were in first year the first time around, right?"

"Huh," Ron grunted. "That'd explain why the team looked so bloody good. Better than I'd remembered, but I thought it was just unclear memories."

"That's excellent reasoning, Harry," said Hermione, tapping her chin with her wand. "I wasn't really paying attention to Quidditch, as it's kind of unimportant."

"What?" Ron and Harry asked simultaneously, in equivalent amounts of horror.

Neville laughed. "I think she means when you compare it to trolls, Voldemort, and the like."

"Oh." Harry chuckled slightly himself. "Yeah, good point."

"I know you're not keen on the idea," said Neville to Hermione. "But I gotta side with Harry on this one. This whole business is just too big and too weird to handle ourselves; we need to bring in Dumbledore."

Harry nodded in agreement. Finally someone talking sense. Dumbledore would know just what to do.

Hermione bit her lip. "But can we trust him?"

Neville held up his hands and rolled his eyes. "Yes?" he said this with a touch of exasperation.

"I say we can," put in Ron. "I talked a lot to his portrait when I was doing my own time spell. Pretty sure we can trust him."

"But what if he tries to Obliviate us?" Hermione asked.

"He won't," said Neville with a shrug. "But if he tries, we run. Agreed?"

They left the room, with Harry pretending he also knew where they were going. It seemed like the time travelers just subconsciously assumed that Harry knew things only his future self would know, and although that was more than logical, Harry was already pretty sick of asking what they were talking about. If it was really important, he'd figure it out eventually.

It didn't take long before the four Gryffindors stood in front of a stone gargoyle - it wasn't much like any office Harry had ever seen.

"Is this it?" He asked.

"The gargoyle guards the entrance," explained Hermione. "But I can't recall the password. Obviously it's some sort of candy, but I never visited the Headmaster in my first year. I don't believe even you did."

"There are ways around it," said Neville slowly. "But I suppose it may be better to be polite and just ask."

Ron snorted. "You guys don't know Dumbledore's catchall password. And here I thought you were supposed to be smarter than me." He turned to the statue before Hermione could reply and said, "Argelfraster."

"What was...?" Harry started to ask, but then the gargoyle jumped aside, revealing a hidden staircase.

"_Argel_fraster?" Hermione asked with the hint of a smile.

Ron shrugged. "Dumbledore's portrait said he wanted it to be memorable but difficult to guess."

Neville laughed. "Not bad. Last time I just climbed through the window." He then turned away from them and began walking up the stairs, as if to forestall any further response or argument.

Harry hurried behind him, ensuring that at least it wouldn't seem like he was just following the other three. When they came to the top, Harry could see Dumbledore's office (which actually did look like what you'd expect a magical office to look like) although he couldn't see if anyone was there.

"Please, come in," came the recognizable sound of the Headmaster's voice, scratched, resonant, and slightly amused. "I am curious what brings four first years to my office so late in the evening."

Neville just walked forward as Harry stood a moment, startled and a bit afraid to move. Hermione, still holding her wand out, gave him a curious look and gestured forward.

A slap on the back jarred Harry back to his senses.

"Chin up, Harry," Ron whispered in his ear. "We've got your back."

Naturally, Neville seemed annoyed they hadn't come right after, while Dumbledore, sitting behind his desk, merely watched them with a raised eyebrow.

"So what is the purpose of this visit?" Dumbledore asked. "Is there some sort of urgent matter that must be attended to?"

"You might say that," said Neville, sitting on one of the chairs. He twirled his own wand around his fingers. "To start off, you probably have some sort of guess why we're here."

Dumbledore raised a white, bushy eyebrow. "There could be many reasons. Perhaps you are here about today's events, or maybe this is about something to do with Sirius Black?"

"Sirius Black?" Harry blinked, just now remembering the drama with the transforming rat. "Oh yeah, what happened with him?"

"It would appear that Mister Black is innocent," replied the Headmaster. "And instead Peter Pettigrew, posing as Ron's pet rat, was instead the criminal so many years ago."

Ron grunted. "We already knew that."

Hermione punched his shoulder. "Harry didn't!"

Dumbledore frowned. "Well now I must confess I am unsure what is going on."

"Sir, haven't you noticed odd things going on this year?" Neville asked in a relaxed tone.

The Headmaster chuckled, a pleasant, friendly sound. "Naturally. This is Hogwarts, after all, and odd things are our speciality."

Neville nodded. "Sure. And yeah, having a troll attack out of nowhere or Peter Pettigrew hiding out as a rat are odd. But consider." He pointed at Ron and Hermione. "Two students that are far too talented for their age."

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Hermione sniffed.

"A troll decapitated by the Sword of Gryffindor."

Dumbledore breathed in. "And how do you know about that, Mister Longbottom?"

Neville grinned widely. "It's simple, sir. I'm from the future."

The Headmaster didn't say anything for a few seconds, as he looked between the four of them.

"An odd assertion," he said finally. "But I fail to see the humour."

"It's not a joke, Professor," said Hermione through clenched teeth. "It's quite true. We have traveled through time from the future - many years, in point of fact."

"Oh, all of you is it?" Dumbledore said lightly, although his expression seemed to say he wasn't enjoying the conversation.

"Harry isn't," Ron interjected quickly. "The three of us are."

"I don't suppose you have some sort of proof," Dumbledore said in a reproachful tone. Harry noticed that the Professor was now also holding his wand, although it wasn't clear when that had happened.

Ron smiled. "For one, I knew the catchall password."

"Which is?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Argelfraster," replied the redhead with extreme confidence, and the Headmaster looked very surprised for a moment, and then stroked his beard.

"Well now, there are ways around that," he said. "But that merely proves you know something you should not, not that you are from the future."

"Fine," Ron said vehemently, stepping closer, while Harry saw everyone else clutching their wands tighter. "Here's something that's proof, something your own portrait told me."

"Hmm, quite fascinating," said Dumbledore. "You've piqued my interest, Mister Weasley. What did the portrait say to you?"

Ron grinned, as though it was obvious. "Made me memorize this phrase: 'The answer to the ontological paradox is that metaphysics are subjective'".

Hermione laughed. "That's ludicrous, Ron! That doesn't solve the paradox at all."

But Dumbledore was clearly shocked, his mouth slightly open. And then he smiled, readily and calmly, and his entire posture relaxed..

"On the contrary, Miss Granger," he said. "It answers everything. And it proves Ronald is from the future, although it would take far too long to explain why." Dumbledore looked over at Hermione. "But how is it that you did not know of this if you are also from the future?"

"Ah." Hermione smiled slightly, a wicked sort of glee showering on her face. "Well, sir, we three are from _divergent_, mutually deterministic futures. So we each came back entirely separately, with three different mechanisms." She gestured at Ron. "From what I gathered, your portrait taught Ron some variant of aperture amplification theory through the corruption of the Xo Xibalba ritual."

Ron's jaw dropped. "You figured that out from just the name of the ritual?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked down. "If that is true, I am sorry you went through such a traumatic circumstance, Mister Weasley."

Ron dropped into a chair and sighed. "Yeah, that's what your portrait always said too. But it was the only way left I could do by myself. Or so you - I mean your portrait said."

"I hadn't even thought of such a dark, difficult procedure," said Hermione, leaning against the wall. "Not that what I did was much better."

"And what was that, if I may ask?" Dumbledore had put down his wand, which seemed promising. For his part, Harry was merely trying to commit everything to memory, to be reviewed later when he had access to a dictionary.

Hermione's mouth quirked up. "I was actually getting to that. You won't like it." She closed and reopened her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I broke the Lunar Compact and forcibly inserted a self-duplicating incantation to sever the probabilistic certainty. Modification of the old Deadman's Loop ritual to trigger the other side of the Moon."

Dumbledore got to his feet suddenly, his face alight with fury.

Harry was so taken aback, he forgot to be terrified. That would come later when he was asleep.

"Miss Granger!" the Headmaster thundered. "Do you realize what you might have done? What you assuredly did to that branch of possibility?"

"I know!" she shouted back, tears in her eyes. "How could I not?" She wiped her face with her robes. "But you were dead. Harry was dead. Ron was dead. And Voldemort..." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "He still lived. So I did what I had to do. That world no longer deserved to exist."

Dumbledore held his angry face for a long moment, and then he sighed, his entire face and body drooping. "But assuredly there must have been innocents and ..."

"Sir, please!" Hermione interrupted. "Would you have done any differently in my position?"

For a long, silent moment, Dumbledore said nothing. And then he sighed deeply and looked very tired. He sat back down and seemed a bit sad. "How old were you?"

Hermione blinked and then smiled slightly. "Twenty-seven."

Dumbledore shook his head. "My word," he said, his voice sounding amazed. "No wonder. You were so young." He chuckled. "Well, you are even younger now." He looked over to Neville. "I shudder to ask what awful technique or violation of reality you utilized, Mister Longbottom."

Neville shrugged. "I just stole an artifact from Riddle's corpse. Seemed obvious how to use it, but I have no idea what it was or where it came from."

"Ah, well, that is a positive development in comparison," the Headmaster said. "So each of you came from a different future to the same past. It would seem that Elzbar's Theory of Convergent Timelines is the valid conclusion after all. Most intriguing. It raises the question: What were the convergent endpoints?"

Hermione grinned and began pacing around Harry's chair.

"I arrived on the first day of the term near the Express; Ron and Malfoy were certainly there, so they must have been displaced at that point, if not earlier."

"Yeah, I came right before the Express," Ron agreed. He looked up at nothing and sighed. "The sight of that beautiful train took my breath away, I don't mind telling you."

"Mister Malfoy?" Dumbledore slowly stroked his beard. "Yes, of course. That would explain some of the aberrances in his behavior as well."

"What about you, Neville?" asked Harry, trying to be an active part of the conversation.

"Halloween," the heavyset boy answered. "I wonder if anyone else showed up at the same time as me. I tried to pick up on any clues, but if there was another one, I didn't notice it."

"Interesting," said Dumbledore. "Perhaps there is something about the day, being that it is a conflux of mystic seasons."

"Oh, right, Halloween derives from Samhain, doesn't it?" Hermione stopped pacing and looked at the Headmaster. "That's a magical holiday too, I remember reading. Hogwarts used to celebrate it."

"Not for many years," he replied with a shake of his head. "Centuries, I would venture. But the magical roots are still relevant, of course. Which could potentially imply further time travelling arrivals during the other confluxes."

"Beltain, right?" Hermione asked eagerly. "And Imbolg!"

"In this case, I believe the transitional spring Equinox and winter Solstice are more likely," the Headmaster said with obvious warmth in his voice and a touch of a scholarly reprimand. "They are more suited to acting as a conflux of time instead of space."

Hermione frowned. "I guess I don't really know much about those."

Ron gasped in an obvious, exaggerated way. "Now I know you aren't the real Hermione!"

She smacked the back of his head and Ron winced.

"Or maybe you are," he grumbled, rubbing the impact area.

"But Professor," Hermione continued, as though nothing had happened. "Why did three of us show up in August? There's no holiday then."

"Sure there is," said Neville. "Lughnasa, of course. But nobody celebrates it anymore. I remember my Gran talking about some people wanting to bring it back."

"Mister Longbottom is quite right," said Dumbledore. "In point of fact, the first day of the school year was tied to Lughnasa. Later on came Muggles copying the timing; the Express, of course came only a hundred or so years ago." He smiled. "Although there was controversy at the time of the use of a 'Muggle' conveyance, Before I was born, of course, but not by that much."

"But sir, that means," Hermione gasped. "That others might just show up at any of the other confluxed holidays."

Dumbledore nodded. "Indeed. We will need to stay vigilant and perhaps construct some sort of alerting mechanism. I have a few ideas."

"Like an echo trigger starting the night before?" asked Hermione, tracing something in the air.

"Well, that wouldn't really be feasible for everyone in Hogwarts, now would it?" Dumbledore chuckled.

Hermione frowned. "Oh, blast! You're right, of course." Then her face lit up. "But wait, what about..."

"Hold a moment," Ron interrupted. "Before we get to you two talking over our heads any longer, let's focus on what we can all contribute to." He gestured to Harry. "Obviously Harry's here because he's the only other person who knows, and because he deserves to know."

"Oh," Harry was surprised by this remark. "Um, thanks."

"We need to think about who else might be 'visiting'" Ron continued. "Malfoy, obviously. And maybe my brother Percy, he's been acting a bit off. Harry pointed out that Wood's weirder than he ought to be."

"I see," mused Dumbledore. "Yes, quite logical. Oliver certainly seemed to be acting a bit... extreme, I suppose." He smiled. "I believe we should get Mister Malfoy involved, as he has apparently been here as long as Miss Granger and Mister Weasley."

"But we can't trust Draco!" Ron insisted, coming to his feet.

"So you prefer we leave him be?" Dumbledore asked.

Ron grimaced. "Bugger."

"Your language is as bad as my own Ron," said Hermione with a small smile, moving a bit closer to him.

"I'm holding back my worst," Ron told her with a laugh.

Dumbledore had taken this interruption to scribble something down on a piece of parchment. He rolled it up and raised it to the corner. "Fawkes, would you mind taking this to Severus?"

At first Harry thought Dumbledore was talking to a portrait until a haunting, beautiful trill caught his attention. A majestic bird with impossibly red feathers flew over and grabbed the paper, and then vanished with a puff of smoke and a small explosion of flames.

"You know," said Ron with a raise of his eyebrow. "Professor, are _you _a time traveler?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Only in the normal, forward only sort of way I'm afraid."

In a flash of fire, the beautiful bird reappeared, singing a musical whistle that sent pleasant goose pimples across Harry's skin. The bird hovered for a moment and then flew in front of Neville.

"Hello Fawkes, old boy," Neville said and held out his arm. Fawkes (which apparently was the bird's name) looked at the Gryffindor for a moment before landing on his wrist. Neville scratched it under the back of its right ear and the bird made a very happy sound.

"My word..." Dumbledore sat back with a look of complete surprise on his face. "Well, if there was any doubt of your foreknowledge, that has certainly settled the matter. I suppose you and Fawkes became quite close in your future, then?"

Neville grinned but his eyes had a tinge of sadness. "Phoenixes are hard to kill, sir. We two were a team near the end."

"Wait, _that_ is Fawkes?" Harry asked. "You mean from your story?" He looked over at the seemingly normal bird - sure it was abnormally beautiful for a bird, and yes, now that Harry looked closer, there was certainly something magical about it. And that birdsong had been marvelous and Fawkes had also disappeared and reappeared out of nowhere - that was consistent with Neville's tale. "Ah," Harry said, and leaned back in his chair. "I guess it is Fawkes."

Ron burst into laughter. "Yes, well spotted Harry," he managed after he calmed down.

Severus stormed into the room. "Albus, what is the..." He stopped and looked over at the students, his face changing rapidly from confusion to horror and then to fury. "What is the meaning of this?"

Albus adjusted his spectacles and leaned forward. "Ah, Severus, so glad you could join us. There is something we need to discuss."

* * *

Later, as Harry collapsed into a comfortable chair in the Gryffindor dorms, he wondered what the others might be working on with the professors. On the one hand, he was intensely curious, but on the other, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. Harry just wished that for once in his life he had someone normal to confide in.

"Harry?" A figure came forward, and it took a moment for a very tired Harry to recognize her.

"Parvati, what are you still doing up?"

She frowned and crossed her arms. "I could ask you the same thing! You vanished and then... nothing for ages! And not just you, but Neville too!"

"And Ron and Hermione," Harry added.

Parvati's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I see. What horrid nonsense did they have to do with this?"

Harry sat up and looked carefully at the dark skinned girl. She seemed fairly normal, all things considered. And she couldn't be blamed for being annoyed at the mental time travelers; after all, hearing about the terrible things in the futures they experienced, who'd blame them for being a bit mad?

He looked around the room, but it seemed that they were alone. "Parvati," he said in just above a whisper. "Come here a moment." He put up his fingers to his mouth to indicate silence.

Parvati perked up and she grinned widely, running over and sitting next to him on the floor. "Well then?" she asked with a glint of pleasure in her eyes.

"I'll tell you," said Harry. "But you must absolutely swear to keep it a secret... from everybody!"

Parvati held up a hand and she sat up perfectly straight. "I won't tell a soul!" she promised.

And despite strong temptations, she didn't say a word.

But as it would turn out, someone else did.

* * *

END OF CHAPTER FOUR - (The Third Conflux Part 1)

* * *

_This chapter didn't quite go as I had planned, but I decided to take an alternative approach to the next one. The next two time travelers aren't even introduced in the primary story yet!_

_Thanks for hanging in there folks! Next up: More Mysterious Girl!_


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